


Slipcast

by VibraniumHeart



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Avengers - Freeform, Bucky is a surly ass, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Everyone loves reader, F/M, Mutant Reader, Natasha Knows Everything, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Slow Burn, Steve is a smart panda, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, Wilson is a little shit, bucky is stupid, not real enemies, reader is stupid, resting murder face
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-07-10 17:04:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 27,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15953726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VibraniumHeart/pseuds/VibraniumHeart
Summary: Slipcast: n. The default expression that your face automatically reverts to when idle--amused, melancholic, pissed off--which occurs when a strong emotions gets buried and forgotten in the psychological laundry of everyday life, leaving you wearing an unintentional vibe of pink or blue or gray, or in rare cases, a tie-dye of sheer madness. (Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows).AKA--Bucky Barnes has resting murder face. Oops.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea I'm playing with...a slow burn with Bucky and Reader where Reader is certain Bucky hates her, and Bucky is certain Reader is fucking one Sam Wilson. There's gonna be angst and drama and intensity and eventually smut. If you like this please let me know, so I can continue adding to it! If not I will probably abandon/delete it and pretend it never happened. Ha! x Title is taken from Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows, which I highly recommended you check out. I do not own the word Slipcast, nor take credit for it. So please don't sue. You should really check out DOS as it is amazing and has beautiful words for all kinds of feelings and situations that don't have names to--at least not ones commonly used in the English language. So the author invented them!

Bucky glared at the blonde super soldier across from him, spoon loaded with bran cereal and bananas poised halfway to his mouth. "No," He snapped simply before shoving the bight into his mouth. Across the kitchen counter Steve sighed, spooning his own oatmeal to his mouth. "I'm just saying try, Buck. I know she likes you."

The two men glared at each other across the kitchen counter. Both were fresh from their morning workout--Bucky dressed in a tight gray t-shirt that made his eyes look clear and soft even under the firm set of his brows. His black sweats were a little looser, though not by much, straining against the muscles in his thighs. Steve was dressed in a tight white tee, his own navy sweats clinging to his own bulging form. They each kept their gazes locked on each other as they ate, neither backing down.

Natasha entered the kitchen with a snort. "Talking about (Y/N) again?" She laughed, reaching to fill her mug with hot coffee from the pot. Bucky growled lowly in response, a warning for her to shut up. Natasha, to her credit, didn't even flinch, smirking coyly as she sipped from the steaming cup. Her own black tank and pants clung to her form as well. She looked far too polished for someone who had just rolled out of bed.

Before Bucky could turn his cold stare her way there was laughter floating into the kitchen, and a cheerful Sam Wilson and (Y/N) (Y/L/N) came bounding into the kitchen with identical silly grins. Bucky shoveled his bites quicker into his mouth, mashing the cereal with more force than was strictly necessary. Wilson always seemed to set him on edge, especially when he was with her--the newest addition to their team. She had been with them little over 6 months, now, having been recruited because of her combat skills and her mutant ones as well. 

She could control the elements. Tony Stark had discovered her using her strength to literally stop a fucking earthquake, at least long enough for people to escape and salvage what they could from their homes. She had passed out from the large expense of energy, but when she woke Tony was there with a proposition for the "Avengers Initiative." The rest, as they say, was history. 

Sam had taken an instantly liking to her, being that she could control wind too. For a guy with wings she could be a valuable assest and often assisted him; both in training him in high-wind conditions, and using said winds to his advantage. The possibilities for what she could do were nearly endless. For a woman so strong you would never guess it, she was sweet and soft and friendly with everyone. So much so that Bucky often wondered if she could manipulate emotions as well. Everyone seemed to fall at her feet. It was that, or she was just that stupidly charming. He used to be charming, too.

Her bright laughter pulls him from his thoughts once more, only to realize his bowl is now empty. Natasha and Steve share a look they think he misses as the duo steps fully into the kitchen. "Morning!" She greets them all brightly, an airy white dress clinging to her breasts and hips, falling in different wave lengths from the waist. It made her look earthy, ethereal, paired with flat sandals with brown stones at the tops of her feet. Her hair was pulled back effortlessly, pinned in what looked like effortless curls about her face. She looked angelic, and Bucky was certain he wasn't the only one who noticed.

He was, however, the only one who missed the chance to say good morning. While Steve and Natasha greeted her back just as brightly his own gaze was locked in a surly expression. It had absolutely nothing to do with the arm casually thrown over her shoulders by one Sam Wilson. He does, however, catch her nervous flutter when she meets his gaze for a slight moment. He can't bring his face to change, though, mood soured by the sight before him.

"Sam and I were wondering if y'all wanted to join us for breakfast," her nose wrinkles in a way that's playful, and absolutely fucking not the cutest thing he's ever seen. Possibly ever. Scratch that, definitely. "But I can see you've already eaten." She bites her lip, feet shuffling over the floor somewhat. 

Steve drops his spoon in the unfinished oatmeal and gives her his award winning smile (no, really, Bucky's certain he had actually won an award for it. The stupid thing was sitting on his bookshelf too). "You know what? Yeah, I'd love something else. This oatmeal isn't really hitting the spot. Nat?"

She downs the rest of her coffee with a grin, "Sure, I was just about to grab Bruce to drag him out. We'll join you," she offers easily.

And just like that all four sets of eyes turn to him expectantly. He shoves away from the counter rougher than he meant to, chair scraping against the floor as he moves to dump his bowl in the sink, "No, thanks. I got better things to do than share breakfast with Birdbrain." He scoffs. Bucky doesn't see her face fall for a moment, the gorgeous pout on her lips, as the smile is fixed back onto her face by the time he turns back around.

"That's okay, maybe another ti--" He's out of the kitchen and headed back to his room before she finishes. Part of him feels like an asshole for being so rude, but Sam always has a way of wrecking whatever mood he's in and making him surly. Given that he was already in an argument with Steve before he arrived, well, it didn't bode well for anyone. 

With a huff he abandons his trek back to isolation in his room, deciding the gym might be much better suited. He's got a bag with Sam Wilson's face on it. Both literally and figuratively. He smirks at that. At least he could punch him in some form without getting a scolding from Steve. He only puts the cutout of Wilson on the bag when Steve isn't around to give his mother hen looks anyway.

He isn't quite to the elevator when he hears Wilson's voice from the kitchen, "Jesus, what's with Tinman today?" He doesn't hear the replies, slipping easily into the elevator to make his way to the gym.

Back in the kitchen Natasha and Sam have started up their own conversation and keep it mobile, going to collect Bruce together for breakfast. It leaves you and Steve alone in the kitchen, the blonde super soldier clearing his bowl of unfinished oatmeal.

"Sorry about Buck, he's..." She gives him a small, rueful smile, "Not a fan of mine." She finishes easily, and Steve's eyebrows draw together at that. "It's okay, Steve, not everyone has to like me. He's been through a lot. I understand him wanting his own space."

The blonde shakes his head at you, "He's just having a bad morning." Even he can hear the lie, though she doesn't know why he's lying. He knows she thinks Bucky dislikes her, Steve knows better, but he also knows better than to correct it. The last time he had tried to hint that Bucky liked her the two men had ended up in a rather heated sparring match, and Bucky hadn't spoken to him for a solid three days. 

"For the last six months?" She laughs with a quirk of her brow, shakes her head again. He can't help but laugh at that. Before Bucky had gone to Wakanda a 6 month stretch of bad moods wouldn't be unheard of. Now he was better, but still naturally....cranky. "Sure, that's why he gives me the resting murder face whenever I speak." 

She rolls her eyes but cants her head toward the door, "Come on, let's go get breakfast before you hurt yourself trying to be polite. I'm starved."

Steve heaves a sigh but follows her anyway, trying not to roll his eyes at how oblivious the two of them are. He want to help them both, he's just not sure how. Not yet, anyway.


	2. Ache

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully y'all continue to enjoy! The next chapter I plan to make....angsty. Like quite angsty me thinks. But hopefully you enjoy this chapter anyway! It's definitely gonna be a slow burn. More Bucky/Reader in next chapter....which may also go up tonight if I can work it out in my head. Kinda playin' this by ear y'all.

The next time you see Bucky he's in the training room. It's early morning on Saturday, so you hadn't expected anyone else to be there. Seeing him makes you pause in the doorway. He's disarmingly handsome, his face much more relaxed when he doesn't know he's being watched. So you hover in the doorway to watch as he throws punches at the bag. There's a light sheen of sweat along his brow, scruff scattered over the line of his jaw in a way that makes you ache.

A few strands of stray hair fall into his eyes, and his cupid's bow mouth is soft and plush looking even from the distance. He's wearing gray again, a darker color this time, and jesus it's unfair how blue-gray it makes his eyes look. Your eyes travel down his body to take in the way his sweats cling to him, and your mouth runs dry. It's impossible not to imagine that scruff scratching against the insides of your thighs, about how his lips would look wrapped around your clit. A pink blush tinges your cheeks and throat. You hadn't even started working out yet and already you felt like you were sweating.

It was so unfair how painfully attractive he is. Your own black tank-top and tight black shorts hug your frame and maybe, just maybe, you put on a little makeup in the hopes that he would be here. Or that you would run into him at some point this morning.

Noisly you make your way into the gym so you don't startle him, and gather up the courage to approach him. He always makes you feel like a nervous teenager about to have sex for the first time. Or be kissed for the first time. Touched in intimacy. Not that he's ever so much as batted an eyelash at you, or done anything other than grunt small phrases and give you the resting murder face. It's not hard to wonder why he always looks so sour, like he'd spent every day from infancy sucking on a lemon. HYDRA was a lot worse than sucking lemons, though, you knew.

With force you paste a bright and cheery smile on your face and stride over to him with a soft clearing of your throat. "Bucky?" He hits the bag still, barely sparing you a glance. "I was thinking of doing some weights..." Still nothing, "was wondering if you might be willing to spot me."

He stops hitting the bag then, turns his gaze fully to you and -ah- there it is, the scowl that seems a permanent fixture whenever you're around. "Was jus' finishin' up." Is his reply before he turns his gaze away, picks up his water bottle from a nearby mat and downs it in one go.

Instantly you can feel yourself deflate, like all the happiness has been sucked from the room. "Right. Sure." You're certain you imagine the tense of his shoulders, the briefest wince across his face. "Sorry I interupted. I'll find someone else to ask."

Without a breath you twirl on the spot and go scampering off, and Bucky cusses to himself. On reflex his metal arm clenches into a fist and strikes the bag at his side. It explodes at the seems, crashing into the wall several feet away. He's not even concerned that Stark will surely give him hell for it. Or, rather, give Steve hell for it who will in turn give Bucky hell for it. Turning you down was the right thing to do, he tells himself, especially when you was so scantily dressed. He wouldn't have been able to concentrate. It would have put your beautiful mouth far too close to his cock, the view of your breats unbearable as you lifted weights beneath him. 

Would you have grunted softly as you lifted? He would have known for sure had he spotted you. Imagining the sounds you might make beneath him was doing things to him and he wasn't about to be caught in the gym with an exploded punching bag and a rock hard erection. Not by anyone. No fucking thank you. He makes his exit just as hastily as you had.

After some wandering you eventually found Natasha, propped lazily on the sofa with a mug of coffee. She looks like a damn super-model, casually sprawled across the sofa. "Barnes put that kicked puppy look on your face?" She guesses with a small wince of sympathy.

You sigh as an answer and go to retrieve your own drink and a light snack. "I know I can't expect everyone to like me. I'm not a child. But I just don't get why he's so...."

"Pessimistic? Surly? Sour? Debbie Downer? Such a prick? An asshole?" You give her a look as she laughs. "No, I get why he's a bit more reserved and comes across that way. I just don't get why so much of it seems to be directed at me." 

She snorts at that, "Because he's in love with you and he doesn't know how to handle it." It's your turn to snort, "Yeah, okay, and I'm Captain America's left testicle."

The two of you stay there in the living room, workout long forgotten, for at least an hour before everyone else starts ambling about. Sam flops ungracefully onto the couch between you and Nat. "What's up, Spitfire?" He wiggles his eyebrows at Nat before turning to look at you, "Sweet-thang?" More eyebrow wiggles.

It's easy to laugh at Sam's antics. He's been like that with you since day one. You know he isn't serious with you or Nat. "Not much, Dark Chocolate," you reply easily, "Just catching up with Nat."

He gives his signature boyish grin, "Ya know, together, Sweet-Thang, we could make Hot Chocolate." You lift an eyebrow at that, "If you get what I mean." Him and those damn eyebrows. You toss a pillow into his face with a snort, "Sam, your eyebrows say it all. But that was the lamest fucking pick up line I've ever heard," you assure him on your way into the kitchen.

Even though you'd had a light snack you're craving something bigger, heartier. You find Steve in the kitchen already whipping up pancakes, bacon, sausage, eggs and he's even diced up a large bowl of fruit salad. "Mornin', Steve. This all for you or you willing to share?" 

Steve gives you a wide grin, "Obviously it's all for me." He teases. "C'mon, how could you forget I eat four dozen sausages, three pounds of bacon, two dozen eggs and at least.....4 pounds of fruit for breakfast?" You can't fight the smile off your face, "Silly me, I must learn to pay more attention."

He nods to the stool at the island for you to sit and you do, watching him cook. The silence is easy and comfortable. There's something so familiar about Steve that he's impossible not to like. It's like curling up with your favorite book, or wearing your favorite hoodie on a chilly day. He's the human embodiment of a security blanket. For a brief moment you wish you were attracted to him the way that you were Bucky. It would be so easy, so effortless, but that's why it's called a crush right?

Wouldn't make sense if it didn't hurt. 

Steve pauses at the stove, turning the knobs off once he's done cooking and turns to you. His thick arms cross over his broad chest. "You're not gonna stop trying, are you?" He asks timidly.

When you give him a confused look in return he adds, "With Bucky."

At that you sigh and give him a long withering look. "I don't know, Steve. What's the point?" You shrug your shoulders. "I'm so stupidly optomistic though, that I probably won't be able to. Unless he's like, a really big doo-doo head." You offer him your best smile and his whole demeanor relaxes, brightens again. It's the direct opposite of how you had reacted to Bucky's rather cold shoulder before. And no, that wasn't meant to be a pun. Metal shoulder. Cold. Ahyuck. Nope, just plain old ass-hattery at it's finest. 

"Well, he's always a doo-doo head these days." He teases back before sliding a heaping plate across the counter to you with a wink. "But I'm glad you're not giving up." You don't even bother to swallow before you're laughing at him, "I swear, if you give me a Captain speech right now I will throw this plate at your pretty face." The kitchen fills once more with the sound of your laughter. Too bad you really aren't interested in Steve, it really would be so easy.


	3. Angst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During movie night you accidentally fall asleep on Bucky's shoulder. He's nice to you. Things happen. Steve gets angry.

Somehow the rest of the day passes by in a lazy blur until night falls and you all gather once more in the common room for an impromptu movie night. You're the last one to make it there, movies already picked out, snacks littered across the large table, and only a single spot left to sit. Of course it's between the two super soldiers who take up most of the couch on your own. Before you can even think to settle on the floor Steve grabs hold of your wrist and yanks you between him and Bucky.

It's such a tight fit the surly super soldier is forced to put his flesh arm across the back of the couch when it's made obvious Steve isn't going to adjust in any way to give you room. It sends your heart pounding in your chest, so loud you're certain Steve and Bucky both can hear it. If the coy grin pulling at Steve's lips is any indication he can, in fact, hear the gallop of your heart. You do your best not to touch Bucky, though it's physically impossible. His thigh presses tightly against yours even with his knees together and though his arm isn't touching you there's a subtle heat at the back of your neck.

Out of the corner of your eye you can see his jaw clench and every inch of him looks ready to bolt. The lights dim and plunge the room into darkness but for the glow of the TV. The snacks are easily forgotten in your fluster at being so close to the hard lines of his body. Physically touching him. If you didn't have fine-tuned control of your powers you're certain the entire couch would be in flames by now. Your clit pulses instantly when you catch a hint of his cologne, or maybe it's his shampoo. Whatever it is smells strong, manly, but not overpowering.

You're so tensed and still that it takes a physical toll on you, though you don't realize it. Of their own accord your eyes begin to droop and your muscles go lax. There's no way to stop yourself from falling asleep, right into the shoulder at your left. 

Bucky holds his breath when your head falls onto his shoulder and your soft breath hits his neck. He can see Steve snicker softly, clearly amused at his predicament. He wouldn't be surprised if his meddling best friend gave you a subtle shove into him as you'd fallen asleep.

When you come to the room is still dark but for the glow of the TV, and there's something soft beneath your cheek. Lazily you come to, burrowing deeper into the softness before you suddenly remember where you are. In your shock you sit up quickly, nearly slip off the couch in your brief panic. Smooth, long fingers clamp firmly around your wrist and haul you back to the couch, though you're no longer pressed against him with the movement.

It dimly takes you almost a full minute to realize it's just you and Bucky in the room. Anxiety weighs heavily in your stomach, your throat squeezing painfully as you hope you didn't drool on him. "Shit, Bucky I'm so sorry I trapped you here! I don't even remember feeling tired." You explain hurriedly, blushing sixteen different shades of red as you apologize. You can't meet his gaze, though you doubt he's struggling to make eye contact with you.

"I coulda moved you." Is his clever response and, well, duh, he's a super soldier. He could have thrown you clear across the room had he wanted to. Probably not a smart way to wake you but he's not wrong. He's definitely physically capable.

"Right," you clear your throat. "Sorry anyway. I know you don't like..." Me, you want to say. You don't like me. There's a brief pause in your words before you clear your throat. "...much physical contact."

With a breath you chance a glance upwards to see just how angry he looks only to find the resting murder face isn't present. You can't really identify the look on his face. He would make a killing playing professional poker. "You looked comfy." He shrugs and offers nothing more. "Still," you blabber on, "I'm sorry, you can't have been comfortable. How long have I been asleep?" 

His face gives nothing away. "About 6 hours. Stop apologizing." The last bit is almost a snap so you quickly stop the apology ready to tumble from your lips once more. It wouldn't do to make him angry if you could avoid it. "Right, okay." You shuffle awkwardly, stretching your stiff muscles. "I, uhm, I guess I should head up to bed then." You clear your throat and find yourself hesitating for some reason.

You're both shocked when Bucky speaks once more, "Want me ta walk you?" All you can do is nod, so surprised you are by the sweet gesture.

Together the two of you make your way to the sleek elevator in silence, though it only feels a little awkward. "Thanks, Bucky, I really appreciate it." He gives you a nod and, hey, it's progress right? The rest of the journey is pretty much silent until you're back at your room, standing at the door with him. Somehow his eyes look even more clear in the dim light of the hall, they almost glow. It steals your breath and sends your heart racing again. Before you can second guess yourself you thank him once more and press a quick, gentle kiss to his stubbled cheek.

As you're bidding him goodnight, slipping into your room, he catches your wrist in his long fingers once more. You look back at him with a confused look. The murder face is back on, his brows drawn deeply together. "What the fuck was that?" He does sound angry this time.

Your mouth drops open to explain, embarrassment and shame flooding through you like a whizzing bullet. Sound refusing to escape from your mouth. The physical contact must have set him off is all you have time to think before he's stepping back and dropping your hand. "This," he gestures between the two of you with a tic to his jaw, "I don't know what the fuck you're tryin' ta do, but don't. Just...don't. I don't need your fuckin' pity, okay? So just stop it." His jaw ticks once more. "I'm not...Bucky I don't understand."

That only seems to make him angrier. His jaw sets harder and you're almost certain you can hear his jaw click and grind together. "Just stay away from me, okay?" He turns on his heel and jogs down the few feet to his room and the door slams with a loud smack behind him. It takes you several long minutes before you gather yourself enough to close the door, hot tears already making trails down your cheeks. You hope no one was awake enough to hear any of it, burrow yourself into your comforter and sob as quietly as you can. He was never really nice to you, but he'd never been so cruel either and it hurts so much more than you expected it to. Much more than you want it to.

Back in his room Bucky leans against the door and drags in heavy breaths. His chest feels tight, almost like a panic attack and his stomach is in knots. He's not dumb enough to have missed the hurt look on your face, the start of tears as he'd told you off. It's better this way, he repeats to himself over and over and over. 

It does nothing to rid him of the knowledge that he's the one who put the look on your face. He's the reason for it. You seemed genuinely caught off guard, surprised, and it makes him ache down to his bones. He lifts his hand to his cheek where your kiss is still burning warmly into his skin. With a few more ragged breaths he forces himself away from the door, as far away as he can get, and turns on the shower for a long time before stepping in. He needs the shower, he tells himself. It has nothing to do with what sounds like quiet sobs coming from a few doors away. 

It really is better this way he keeps telling himself, lets his eyes fall to the mangled scar of his left shoulder where skin pulls tight and rough to meet metal. He's a monster anyhow.

Morning comes all too quickly. Seeing as it's Sunday though you make no move to get out of bed, to shower, or even brush your hair. Instead you stay awake staring at the ceiling and wishing the sun would just fuck off into another galaxy for a bit so you can wallow in mood-lighting. You only begin to get up when the need to pee overcomes everything else. This morning is unlike so many others. There's not much will to do anything. Your usual chipper demeanor may as well have been put through a wood-chipper, thrown into a blender and flushed down a sewer. 

Still you attempt to make yourself look somewhat presentable after a shower you're barely-there for before slinking to your couch to sit until hunger overrides the need to be a hermit for the rest of your life. It's impossible to plaster on a fake smile for everyone, so you settle for saying nothing as you pass them by at random; first Natasha in the elevator, Bruce in the common room with Clint and Sam, Wanda and Vision in the kitchen. No one botheres to try and speak to you, so you're certain your mood is written all over your face.

You're eating a bagel with cream cheese blankly, hadn't even noticed Wanda and Vis leave the kitchen until a gentle pressure falls upon your shoulder. Startled you drop your bagel and the first thing you see are blue eyes. For a bare second your breath catches in your throat before you realize they're the wrong shade. Steve. The look on his face says that he heard everything last night and you flinch away from his sympathy. You're not looking to start crying again so early. His hand drops with a small sigh and he seems to understand that there's not much he can say to excuse his best friend. Knows you don't want to hear it. So he stays silent. 

However he isn't silent when another dark haired soldier enters the kitchen, freezes for a moment, and then makes his way toward the fridge like nothing happened. Steve claps him hard on the shoulder and you try not to notice how tightly he's gripping the muscle. "Bucky," He says cheerfully, too cheerfully you think. "C'mon, we're going for a run." Bucky opens his mouth to protest and Steve's jaw snaps shut and there's a hard edge to his eyes you've never seen before. His gaze his narrowed and sharp, his jaw set into a firm line. "I wasn't asking." 

Bucky allows himself to be literally shoved out of the kitchen. Neither spare a glance back at you. Part of you wants to signal to Steve that he doesn't have to do whatever he's about to, that it's not a big deal. You're a big girl and you'll get over it. The small petty part of you that exists says the surly one deserves whatever Steve is about to throw his way. And, oh no, before you can say anything they're already gone. Such a bummer. 

Karma really is a bitch, isn't it? You feel your lips twitch into a small smirk of satisfaction. In the back of your mind you know it's a fleeting feeling, one you can't possibly hang onto---so you enjoy it while it lasts, this small victory, before the crippling guilt and sorrow chip away at your heart once more. You only hope it holds until you're back in your room, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that happened. I hope you all enjoy it! I couldn't help but make Bucky a bit of a royal dickface in this one. Do you still like so far? Hope you're all still with me! I'm also terrible sometimes at dialogue so I will definitely try to incorporate more of that. It's all a work in progress here, and I'm a blind monkey in the dark with a single match in some ways. For this chapter I blame how criminally sexy it is when Sebastian Stan curses. And Chris Evans. Is that even legal? Fuck is also my favorite word, honestly. It's so versatile. I'm also a biiiiig potty mouth and have been since I learned how to cuss. *snort* So if it ever becomes too much or seems out of place feel free to holler at me! Thanks for reading xo


	4. Dream a little dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky has a naughty dream, Steve is disappointed, Reader gives Bucky a taste of his own medicine.

Bucky's stubble brushes against your inner thigh, his hands wrapped around your thighs to keep you spread open for him. His eyes are locked hungrily on your dripping wet slit, tongue sweeping out to wet his bottom lip before he presses his mouth fully against you. He uses his hands to pull you roughly against his mouth as he devours you. 

When your fingers wrap into his air he moans and it sends vibrations through you that make you tremble in his hold. Blue eyes flutter and snap open to lock on yours as he continues to taste you--dipping his tongue into your slit, tracing your labia and around your clit but not touching. He's careful, slow, and attentive to everything that makes you grip his hair tighter, or sigh his name in bliss. His mouth drops open kisses and nibbles to your shivering thighs, making sure to leave a mark on each one before he attacks your clit once more with his mouth.

He sucks the wet bud into his mouth, nips gently with his teeth before soothing the sting with slow circles of his tongue. When your hips buck up toward his face, grind against his mouth he gives in and quickens his pace. His hands stray up toward your breasts and cup them, teasing over the hard peaks of your nipples. Both are pinched and pulled while he works you with his mouth.

Still his eyes remain firmly locked on yours, his hips rutting desperately into the mattress as your back arches in a beautiful bow and suddenly you're screaming his name as you cum.

Bucky jerks awake in a sweat, his breath uneven drags as he struggles to remember where he is. In the back of his head he can still taste you on the tip of his tongue and he groans, flopping onto the sheets stomach first. He's achingly hard and, with the dream fresh in his mind, sinks his hand into his sweats to grip his aching cock. It's hard to remember if he's ever been this hard, this needy. Gleaming silver metal grips the sheet as he rolls his hips into his fist, eyes shut tight as he imagines thrusting into your went cunt.

And this, he allows himself--the sinful pleasure of imagining it, if only for a moment. His hips quicken as he remembers what you sounded like in his dream, how desperate and wanton you'd been for his mouth. How he had made you cum with a scream of his name. All too quickly he cums in his pants, the sticky fluid falling onto his still moving hand and his abdomen. With a groan he buries his face into his pillow, allows himself to come down slowly from his high.

Several minutes later he finds himself still painfully hard and he figures a shower and a repeat wouldn't hurt with the dream so fresh in his mind.

Bucky had passed out shortly after his very very long run with Steve. For the first sixteen laps they'd said nothing to each other, and Bucky knew Steve was trying to find a way to word things best to him. "What the hell was that, Buck?" He's genuinely confused for a moment, "What do you mean, Stevie?"

They both stop and his blonde friend gives him a hard look, "Last night. I heard you." Bucky can feel the confusion on his face slip easily into the scowl that has become so familiar. Somewhere in his head there's a distant memroy of his mother scolding him to not make faces too long or they'll get stuck that way. Perhaps she was right because he can't seem to wipe the scowl from his face for more than a day at a time. 

"It's the truth." He shrugs, uncapping his water to down it all in one go. Steve is already shaking his head. "No, it's not Buck. You deserve to be happy. I know she likes you." 

Bucky sighs heavily, drags a hand over his face. "Steve, you're my best friend and I love you. So I'm asking you one last time to shut up about this, Punk. It's not your life. Not your say." There's a tic in Steve's jaw as he speaks and he knows he's made him angry. But it's also the truth and they both know it.

"Fine," Steve says tightly, "you're right. It is your life. Maybe I just don't want to see my best friend end up alone. And you know I don't mean just me, I said til the end of the line. But I mean someone to really share your life with. Fall in love with. I know you think you don't deserve it but you're wrong." Steve holds up his hand as Bucky's mouth drops open to argue, "That's all I'm gonna say on it. That, and I think you're a fuckin' jerk."

He laughs without humor, "You and me both, Pal."

After the incident outside of your room you make a conscious effort to avoid Bucky, to give him the cold shoulder. Problem is that's hard to do with someone who doesn't actually speak to you in the first place. You had tried, though, to get him to talk to you, had said good morning every day for 6 months without fail. Sometimes you made extra food and left it for him in the kitchen. You just wanted to be his friend, at the very least. 

The cold slap of reality was enough to set you off kilter, though. It was hard to paste on a smile still, so you didn't much attempt it. Slowly over the next week things got better though and you found yourself laughing with Sam and gossiping with Natasha and Wanda and even joining Steve for a few sparring sessions. Neither of you spoke about Bucky, though you knew he wanted to. You had said you wouldn't give up, afterall. But that was before he had blatantly told you to stay the fuck away from him. 

So you did. After living with the team for so long you had pretty much memorized their daily routines so it wasn't exactly hard to avoid Bucky. You're successful for a week and a half before it all comes crashing down.

It's a little after three in the morning and you find yourself awake and hungry so, with a sigh, you trudge down to the kitchen wearing only a long black tank top and boyshort underwear in cherry red. It's not like the team hasn't seen you half naked anyway, and you're too tired to put on pants anyway.

The kitchen always has a faint glow to it, dim lights kept on at all times for cases just like this. So you think nothing of it as you pad into the kitchen and go immediately to the fridge to look for a snack. It isn't until you're pulling out a leftover banana cream pie and twirling around that you see him. Bucky is leaning against the island, poptart poised halfway to his mouth as his eyes widen in what looks like surprise for a brief second. You yelp and the pie jolts out of your hands.

Just as you're mourning the loss of it his poptart hits the floor and his metal arm catches the pie swiftly before it hits. Your eyes meet for a brief second and you're once again caught off guard by how soft they are, how clear but strikingly blue. And then you remember once more his words to you so you snatch the pie violently from his hand, whip around and angrily cut yourself a piece. "Thanks," you snap venemously as you slip the pie back into the firdge and slam the door shut. 

Bucky flinches. He's never heard you snap at anyone in anger, and it's certainly never been directed at him. It stings deep in his chest and it's difficult then to remain his resolve. Better this way, he chants to himself over and over again in his head. He means to say you're welcome, maybe apologize for being so harsh, but it's that exact moment that he also realizes what you're wearing. Or rather, how little you're wearing.

All that comes out again is a grunt and it sounds angry even to his own ears. The silverware drawer slams shut after you retrieve your fork and you start to stomp out of the kitchen. "Sometimes you're a real prick, Barnes." He winces again and his jaw clenches so hard he's sure his teeth will shatter. And still he would swallow the pieces to keep from saying anything. Better this way, better this way, better this way.

"I know," he says only once he hears the elevator doors slide shut and it begins it's acsension back up to your room. He knows it's better that you hate him, that you think he's a total prick and yet...it still twists his stomach into knots that he's the one who's put two new faces on you this week that he hadn't seen---hurt and anger. 

And, really, that's the best reasoning for him to stay away. Hurt and anger, it's all he's good for anyhow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks y'all for sticking with me, and glad you're all enjoying it so far! Hope you liked this chapter just as much. I added a little smut for y'all bahaha. <3


	5. Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky calls reader a no-no word. Reader reacts. Steve reacts. All of them have feels. this was fun to write

The first time it happens is completely by accident. You're standing in the kitchen cooking some pasta when Bucky walks in. You can feel your blood run cold and instantly the water molecules in the air turn to ice and fall like thousands of tiny diamonds onto you and the super soldier. While you don't flinch you can hear him gasp as the cold hits his heated skin and melts immediately. It's hard not to look at him, but you keep your eyes fixed firmly on the boiling water.

After that it's admittedly more purposeful. If you can't give him the cold shoulder you can literally give him a cold shoulder, and something in that is satisfying in a primally petty way. Either way the guilt is kept firmly at bay for as long as you hold onto that anger.

Even on missions you don't look at each other, say nothing to each other and the rest of the team notices the shift. Wanda simply says it's not her place, Vision doesn't understand it, Sam finds it hilarious somehow (mainly that you keep making it rain ice down onto Bucky), Steve is sympathetic and Tony takes to calling you Elsa. 

A few weeks after the first incident you find yourself on a date. His name is Jack and he's tall, dark and handsome. You go out for dinner and drinks and have a pretty good time. For the first time in a few weeks you find yourself smiling and elated, and feeling a bit more like your old self.

That is, until you arrive back at the compound a little after one in the morning. The common room light is on and you're certain it must be Steve. He was pretty excited for your date, had promised to stay up and gossip about it with you and it warms your heart to think that you can share it with him.

"Steve, I gotta tell you about this date!" You chirp excitedly only to fall flat once you notice it's not Steve at all, and it's Bucky instead. Because isn't that just the way the universe works? Of course it is. You suppress a groan, get ready to twirl on your heels to parade out of the room when he speaks.

"Didn't take you for that kinda woman," He murmurs, so quietly you almost miss it. He's wearing a red henley this time and the usual black sweats in the same shade as your strapless dress. You can't help yourself from setting your gaze on him where he sits with his arms folded over his chest. "What the fuck did you say?"

He stands with a shrug, squaring off against you with your gazes locked on each other. "I said," his voice rumbles in a deep, almost sleepy timber, and, in another scenario it might make you shiver with desire, "I didn't take you for that kinda woman."

Your gaze instantly narrows into your own scowl. "What kind of woman is that, exactly?" You're shaking slightly, but it's not with desire. Bucky sweeps his gaze over you from top to toe and spits his answer, "A tramp."

In that moment you're so blindly angry that you reach out to slap him hard across the cheek. Bucky, to his credit, barely flinches. Your hand instantly throbs and tingles in protest before it goes completely numb. Shit. In a flash you're pressed against the wall with your wrists pinned above your head and his steely gaze locked onto yours. "Don't. Touch. Me." He breaths raggedly and there's another unreadable expression on his face. You want to point out that he's touching you and therefore he can get the fuck away from you, but then he's pushing himself back and out of the room before you can even catch your breath.

Up close he had been very distracting, his blue gaze blazing into your own and the fire there in his eyes made you tremble with something that decidedly wasn't anger. Jesus, what was wrong with you?

Your hand is still numb and tingling when Steve comes bounding into the room a few minutes later. The excited look from his face falls instantly when he sees you, tears clinging to your lashes and your hand already swelling. It takes several minutes to calm your hammering heart and ease the squeeze of emotion in your throat enough to explain what happened to Steve.

The look he gives you in return is hard to describe. There's an intensity there you've never seen on his face before, not even in the heat of battle. It's in that instant that you know Steve is going to deliver the failed hit for you. He gently takes you into his arms and carries you to the medical bay to have Bruce check your hand. He's pretty certain you broke it, from both the force of your hit and the strength in Bucky's body. It had been like hitting hard granite coated in steel. Bruce smiles gently when you enter, still dressed in his striped pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt.

He waves off the inconvenience of the time and beckons you to sit. As soon as Steve is sure you're settled he kisses your forehead in the softest gesture you've ever been given and takes off with a promise that he will be back shortly.

Bucky is sitting on his own bed with his back rigid when Steve barrels in without knocking. He knows the punch is coming before it even lands with a loud smack against his jaw. He flops back onto the mattress, licks the blood from his lip and levels Steve with his stare. The blonde super soldier jerks him up by the collar so they're eye to eye. "Goddammit Bucky, did you really call her a fucking tramp?"

He can see the guilt flash in Bucky's eyes for a minute. "What? She's with Sam and she went on a date with another guy." Steve shoves him back and contemplates hitting him again before he draws in a ragged breath. His own knuckles are split slightly from the hit, but they'll no doubt be healed by morning. "She isn't with anyone, Buck." And that's enough to make the guilt in his eyes all too apparent, though he does his best to hide it from Steve as he shrugs. Sam was on a mission, had been for the last week and Bucky had assumed a lot of things. Apparently he was all wrong, though. Not that it mattered.

"Better if she hates me, anyway." Is all he says. Steve sighs then, dragging a hand over his face. "You're my best friend, Buck. But sometimes you're a fucking idiot. And a real asshole."

Bucky says nothing because it's not like it's untrue and even if it were there's no arguing with Steve.

By the time Steve comes back to the medbay Bruce has finished casting your hand and gives you medicine for when the pain comes. You'd felt it as soon as the two broken bones in your hand had been set and the numbness was washed away with a flare of sharp, throbbing pain. The shot Bruce had given you should hold for a while longer, and it made you feel floaty and carefree--the way you had been when you first returned home.

"Steve," you smile, your eyes dropping to the raw pink of his knuckles almost instantly. "You don't have to keep fighting my battles for me." He gives you his own smile in return, shrugs his shoulder in a boyish way. "You know as well as I do I'm not gonna stop that anytime soon." Because since birth Steve has felt the need to protect everyone and everything he loves with an intense passion. Even complete strangers. It's just in his blood. He sees wrong being done and he has to fix it. Like an itch that insists on being scratched.

"Well, in that case, I hope you did better than I did." You snort, holding up your bright neon blue cast. It made you happy, the color. It was that or the sickly yellow looking color, anyway. Steve barks out a laugh, "I would hope so, otherwise they might take the shield."

He turns effortlessly then and beckons you to hop onto his back and, because he's a super soldier and one of your best friends you do so readily. A piggy back ride is never a bad way to end the night, afterall.

Like a true and blue gentleman he carries you all the way back to your room, telling you corny jokes and tales of his youth until he deposits you on the bed and tucks you in. He gets you a glass of water and makes sure your pills are within reach should you wake up in pain. Steve stays with you until he's sure you're asleep before he ducks back to his own room with his fist still twitching a bit with wanting to give his best friend another punch. 

Back in his room Bucky is sleepless and unsettled, propped up against his bedrame with the resting murder face stuck on his face. He can make out the sounds (though barely) of Steve laughing with you and helping tuck you into bed. And if that sends a pang right through his heart, well, it's only for him to know. He does feel bad about your hand, though, and feels like he should probably apologize. Maybe. But he probably won't. Better if you hate him, he reminds himself, and there's nothing worse than an asshole who doesn't apologize.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's exactly what I imagine would happen if a regular person hit Bucky. Like that would be my luck. Revenge slap and all I end up with his a broken hand.


	6. Confusion

Nights when Thor visits are a favorite of yours. He always greets you with his loud booming voice and regal smile. He's polite and courteous and always bring liquor. You're not sure exactly how old it is, or what proof it might be considered, just that it's enough to get every Avenger drunk twice over--including the super soldiers.

His visits aren't frequent so it's mandatory that everyone get together in the common living room for some drinks and food and plenty of banter. Tony always spares no expense on whatever takeout you all agree upon, and everyone is generally in a more relaxed mood.

This time you all stuff yourselves full of pizza before putting on a movie and starting in on the shots. You sit with Wanda and Natasha laughing loudly at Natasha's stories of bad dates from years previous. You and Wanda share your own mishaps and you all have a good laugh at each other. You're midway through a story about a date you had with a guy who brought his cat along to a four star restaurant before you see him enter with Steve. It's almost enough to throw you off guard but you keep the story going.

The cast is still on but you haven't needed the pain pills in several days now. You're doubt any of them would let you drink if you were still on the medication, so thank Gods (haha) for small favors. The liquor Thor brings always tastes like the sweetest fruit, nectar straight from a peach maybe and berries. But it's also not overly sweet. 

Surprisingly both Bucky and Steve partake of the liquor as well and soon you're all laughing and chatting like old friends (I mean, most of you are friends) but even Bucky's resting murder face seems to cool it for now. Eventually you make your way over to Steve while Bucky is caught talking to Thor. From what you can hear something about an Asgardian ritual involving a harem of women and what sounds like opium. Or maybe Thor is just talking about a wild party from his youth.

Steve's cheeks are flushed already and his eyes a bit glassy. He's definitely drunk, smiling dopily at you as you approach him. "Hey, (Y/N), havin' fun?" His Brooklyn accent comes out strong and you can't help but laugh, "Course I am, and so are you I can see." Steve sighs dreamily. "It is nice to be able to let loose when Thor comes around. I'm not such a wet blanket when I drink." He very nearly giggles and you can't help but laugh with him. He's just too damn cute. "You're not a wet blanket, Stevie. If anything you're the world's softiest, coziest security blanket."

He beams at that and pulls you into a hug that's just a little too strong. He pulls away sheepishly when he hears you give a small squeak. You two talk for what feels like hours, and it might be, because eventually you find yourself alone in the common area. Well, not alone, Bucky is still tucked into a corner and nursing more Asgardian liquor. Everyone else had called it a night some time ago.

Gathering your resolve you plop down next to him though make sure to not touch him in anyway and that there's at least six inches of space between you. You're still quite drunk, which probably explains why you had the nerve to talk to him at all. "I'm sorry I hit you." You murmur quietly, half afraid he's about to snap at you for breathing his fucking precious air.

Bucky, though he looks composed, is a lot drunker than you figured he would be. He shakes his head, grips the couch to steady himself with the quietest laugh you've ever heard. There's a genuine smile pulling at his lips though, and it sends your heart into overdrive. "I deserved it, doll." If he notices the slip of the endearing term he doesn't comment on it. 

Instead he sets aside the bottle he's clutching and instead moves slowly to take your casted hand in his. "I'm sorry about your hand." To add even more confusion into the mix he ducks his head and presses a soft, warm kiss to the knuckles that are just peeking out of the cast. Your breath hitches in your throat. 

With a sigh he lets your hand go and leans back. "But this..." he gestures between the two of you again, though it's not nearly as angry as the first time. It's casual. "Isn't a good idea, okay?" His blue eyes meet yours for the barest of moments before his gaze locks firmly on his hands. "You're not a tramp, neither." 

The confession has your head spinning, and you're beyond confused at this point. How can he be so cold one day and this tender the next? Is he playing some kind of game? You're not sure, but your heart seizes in your chest at the forlorn look on his face.

"Then why?" You ask softly, cocking your head at him. And you know it's wrong, because he's drunk and he can't (apparently) lie very well or conceal how he feels. You wonder how much he's had of the bottle but you will yourself not to check. It's not your place and you're afraid any small movement might send him running in the other direction. Or snapping at you once more.

Bucky shakes his head, gnaws on his bottom lip for a moment. "It just ain't. I can't be your friend. I need ya ta understand that." A frown pulls at your lips at that. "How can I understand if you haven't explained anything? You've been cruel to me, Bucky. You're drunk."

His lips curve into a rueful grin at that, "I'm plastered," he admits with a snort. "An' I can't explain. But I need you ta stop tryin' ta be friends with me. That's all." And maybe it's because he's drunk and (hopefully) not likely to remember, but you let a confession of your own slip. "I don't just wanna be your friend, Bucky."

At that his eyes clamp shut tightly and he refuses to meet your gaze. It almost looks as if he's trembling and you watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows tightly. "You can't. We can't. I won't." He shakes his head vehemently. "Why not? If what Steve says is true---"

Bucky cuts you off with a grunt, "Steve needs to mind his own business, okay? I said I'm sorry, 'bout the hand and the...calling you a tramp," he adds more quietly. "Just stop, okay? Please." It's the most you two have ever said to each other, the longest you've ever sat next to him, and you know he's going to get up and stumble his way back to his room any moment now.

You're rooted firmly to the spot and want to make him stay, to beg him, or ask him, so many questions left unanswered and unsatisfying. You want to know how much more information you can pry from him if you keep him sitting there. Instead you say, "I can't promise that." Because as surly and rude and crass as he may be you're just as stupidly optimistic and hopeful and oh so desperate to be close to him. It should bother you, being desperate, but it doesn't. Not with him. 

He heaves another sigh and shakes his head again. "I know." That's all he offers in way of a reply before he pulls himself up and heads back to his room. Once again you're left sitting in the dark, alone, and confused over a certain brunette former assassin.

But this time there's a little sliver of what feels like hope. It's the closest you've ever been to being able to read Bucky and, as wrong as it is, (and it is so very very wrong) you plan to use it to your advantage. His resolve had looked ready to crack. Whatever his reasons for wanting to keep away from you, you were going to find out and do your best to make him change his mind. Because even if he didn't like you, couldn't like you, or would never love you the least he could do was be civil with you and be your friend.

You try to tell yourself you'd be okay with just friendship if that's what he really wanted though, according to Steve, it's definitely not. With your own unsatisfied sigh you drag yourself off the couch and head back up to your room to take a very, very cold shower. The conversation with Bucky may have been more serious and confusing but it was none-the-less arousing to have him kiss your knuckles and meet your gaze with those intense eyes of his.

His lips had sent warmth upward from your hand clear to your heart and in between your thighs with a powerful ache to accompany it. Not for the first time you're plagued with thoughts of what that sinful mouth would feel like elsewhere. This time it seems a little less hopeless fantasty and a little more possible reality someday though, so you don't feel half as guilty for getting yourself off thinking of it.

Tomorrow you would wake up and plan and try to worm your way further into the life of one Bucky Barnes--but for now you were going to indulge yourself in sinful fantasies and fall asleep still drunk burrowed into your covers like a human burrito.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still working on adding more dialogue, I swear to God I am lol. I also am uncertain how long this chapter is (it seems short) because I don't actually have Word on my laptop. Instead it's notepad and IDK if there's a word counter there. And I have a tendency to be long-winded and write quite a lot with very little dialogue. Is that working for y'all? I really did my best to add more into this short chapter and there's more Bucky/Reader to be had and also Thor is briefly mentioned. I love that hulking big dorkus ball of sunshine. Drunk Steve is also cute as pie and tickles me pink okay. I bet he's a total ham banana (that's not supposed to make sense). Thanks for reading xxx


	7. Plot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve helps you trap Bucky, in a sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm typing this from my mobile so I apologize if it's awful. I don't feel like sitting on my laptop lol.

Steve is way too chipper in the morning for someone who easily drank twice as much as you did. He greets you at his apartment door with that megawatt smile of his. He's dressed in a navy blue pullover and dark wash jeans that leave little to the imagination.

You're still dressed in a baggy NInja Turtles sleep shirt and yoga pants because comfort is key after a night of drinking and confusion. 

It's only after he brews a pot of coffee and you're both halfway through your first cup that you tell him what transpired the night before. Steve listens patiently until you've finished. "Alright, so what's the plan then?"

You mull it over for a minute. "Honestly? No idea. I need to get him alone somehow. I mean I dont really want to corner him but..." you shrug helplessly as that seems to be the only time Bucky actually speaks to you. "That or we spike every drink he ever takes." You snort.

Steve considers this for a moment, brows drawn together in serious contemplation. "Okay I think I may have a plan." And he is the star spangled man, so you're certain it's better than whatever you could think of alone.

In the end it takes Steve, Natasha and Sam's help to literally corner Bucky. Natasha tells Bucky that Steve is waiting in the training room for him. Only isn't Steve, it's Sam who easily replies that she was mistaken and Steve actually said he was leaving the training room to meet him in a debriefing room on the same floor.

When Bucky makes it there the door opens to an empty room and he feels his resting murder face pull at his brows.

Before he can figure out exactly what's up you're behind him and blocking the doorway. Realization dawns on him then and, with a roll of his eyes goes to slip around you.

Your palms come up to touch either side of the door-frame and block his exit.

The muscle in his jaw tics. "Move," he commands as gruffly and rudely as he can, willing himself not to look at your tight black yoga pants or the cherry red tank top that plunges low to reveal ample bosom. 

"No." You reply just as rudely and watch as Bucky takes a deep breath. His chest expands outward and make his shirt pull tight across his muscles. Your knees go weak for a moment but you don't let it show.

"Please move," he grits out, slowly losing his patience and finding it ever more difficult to keep his eyes from wandering.

"No." You repeat again and Bucky snaps his eyes shut to take another breath. "Unless," you trail off.

Slowly his eyes flutter open to lock on yours. His gaze is intense and unsettling and arousing and so intimate to you that you feel goosebumps race down your spine to your toes. You wonder if it feels as charged to him as it does you, especially after last night.

"Unless?" He prompts, crossing his arms over his chest with an eyebrow cocked high. His hair is down today and you itch to run your fingers through it.

"Unless you want to talk about last night.." He huffs and gives you a firm "no" and nothing more. "Then there two other options." His eyebrow raises a fraction higher.

"You can come down and have some breakfast with me and make an attempt at civil conversation, with no less than 40 words from you or..."

Again you trail off and watch as Bucky swallows roughly and the muscle in his jaw tics once more. He lets the silence stretch on for what feels like forever. "Or?"

Here you take your own deep and steadying breath and, for the first time, openly appreciate every inch of him. You let your eyes pull away from his to drop to his collarbone and his shoulders, down the black t-shirt and the tight muscles beneath. To the crux of his thighs in dark jeans to his combat boot clad feet.

You meet his gaze once more and slowly slip your tongue out to wet your bottom lip. "Or," you purr in the best seductive voice you can muster, "you can put your hands on my hot, tight little body and make me move."

Purposefully you flutter your eyelashes and watch as Bucky's mouth drops open in surprise and his eyes widen. You watch his own tongue dart out to wet his bottom lip and can hear the ragged breath that he takes.

The silence is thick between you and he can't seem to stop himself from eye-fucking you the way you had him. Finally he gives a little hum and lets his arms drop.

"Breakfast, then." He motions for you to lead the way. On his way out to follow you he makes eye contact with the security camera and promptly gives it a one fingered salute. 

Bucky's mostly mad he didn't realize it was a trap sooner. But the way you had said he could put his hands on your body definitely made it worth being tricked. It was enough to fuel several fantasies in the future. 

So he follows her because he also knows that every room comes with a lock and F.R.I.D.A.Y would most certainly be willing to lock him in a debriefing room for hours until he spoke to you in some way. 

With that in mind he follows you to the kitchen, silently hoping 40 words is less daunting than it sounds.


	8. Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Reader finally have a real conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting from mobile again because I'm awake in the early hours again. Why my brain decides three or four hours of sleep is enough is beyond me. Never go back and read your own works, folks, as I did for this one and cringed. Mistake in the first paragraph. Ugh. What a rookie.

In the bright lights of the kitchen it's a little harder to know where to go from here. Admittedly you had expected Bucky to tuck tail and run as soon as you had let him out of the debriefing room. He hadn't though.

Bodily he plops himself onto a stool as you begin grabbing food from the fridge and freezer to make you both.

"Bacon, hash browns and toast okay?" You ask, swallowing past the nervous flutter in your throat. When all he does is nod you find your hands on your hips and an raise an eyebrow at him.

He winces like speaking is painful before he nods again, "Yes."

"Okay, so let's talk." You prod as you begin to cook. When there's still nothing but silence you turn back to look at him to see a curious look on his face.

His cupid's bow mouth is pulled into a soft pout and he seems to be having a conversation in his head, tipping it one way and another. His lips move soundlessly and you feel laughter bubble up from your throat.

"Please tell me you're not figuring out how to use exactly 40 words for this conversation like an incorrigible cheat."

His mouth snaps shut for a moment, his eyes locking with yours before he ducks his head and bites his lip before a sexy smirk-smile takes over. When he looks back up the smirk is still there, a new lightness in his eyes.

"Caught me," he admits with a huff of a laugh.

"You're impossible." You shuffle your feet a little and look away, lest you jump him in the middle of the kitchen just to see what he would do. You're not willing to risk scaring him off totally just yet.

"Are you gonna tell me why?" It's easier to ask without looking at him and revealing the blush over your cheeks. It's just the heat from the stove this way. Right?

Behind you Bucky sighs. "I ain't good at this." He answers softly. "Used to be." He adds.

And it's impossible not to imagine just how good he used to be. For a moment you wonder what meeting him in the 30s or 40s would have been like. No doubt he could charm anyone into his bed, man or woman, if Steve is to be believed (and he never lies, not to you).

"You'd be better with practise." 

Another snort from behind you. "You interrogate terribly, by the way. Ain't ya supposed to ease into the hard questions? Not start off with them?"

You toss a grin at him over your shoulder. "You gave me an answer didn't you? Granted it's half an answer. But you'd be wrong to think I'll let it drop."

A small frown pulls at his lips again. "No, I know you won't." He sighs, pulling the band from his hair to let the dark strands fall into his eyes. Even from afar you can see that damn stubble with perfect clarity, the way his lashes brush his cheeks and frame those too blue-gray eyes.

You don't realize you're staring until Bucky looks up and clears his throat. "Because you look at me like that." He rasps, a husky undertone to the words. It's still only part of an answer but it is something.

Red colors your cheeks again, "Like what?"

Bucky widens his eyes slightly with a small, soundless laugh. "Forgotten a lot of things, do--(Y/N), but not what it looks like when a woman wants me." He breaks eye contact then. 

The hammering of your heart is so hard you're surprised it's still in your chest. Feeling a lot braver than you are you accuse, "You feel it too." 

After a brief pause you add, "Don't you?" Because you can't be the only one drawn to him this way, right? You can't be imagining it. Insecurity threatens to smother you before you see him nod.

"Doesn't change anythin' though. I still won't. I can't." And it's like a knife straight into your gut and your throat gives a painful squeeze. Pressure pushes behind your eyes but you reel it back. You won't cry. Not here.

"But I'll try to be civil. I'm still kind of an asshole, though."

A laugh bursts out of you. "Kind of? I broke my hand on your face." A subtle blossom of red tints his neck and cheeks and you're stunned into silence at how utterly adorable it makes him look. 

And you know he's sorry but he repeats it anyway and then, "Sit. I'll finish cooking." Because he's not quite sure how you manage it with the awkward cast and because a gentleman would do it. Steve would have his hide if he knew he let you do any of the cooking.

For the most part the moment is broken as you trade places and plop into a stool while he finishes cooking. A silence settles over you both while he finishes up and plates your food for settling onto the stool beside you.

Before you even take a single bite you take a risk and nudge him with your shoulder. "Thanks for trying, Bucky." 

He smiles a little at that, almost playfully, "Already regret it." And goddammit he's teasing you and it forces a smile into your own mouth.

"No you don't. Not really." And you both begin to tuck into your breakfasts in something like comfortable silence. Progress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed as always. Don't worry my self hatred won't keep me from posting. Cos as much as I hate myself I legitimately enjoy sharing my work more. I haven't shared any of my writing like this in several years. It feels good, though, to have people other than my mom tell me they enjoy my writing. It's like sharing a piece of my soul. Aha. Xx


	9. Chapter 9

Tony is the one to remove the cast from your hand, finally. Bruce had taken a small leave of absence with Natasha so he took it upon himself to take on your last bit of care.

"So Elsa, you finally decide to Let it Go?" He laughs as he finishes removing the now dingy cast. "Your mini ice storms that is. I'm sorry to see them go." 

You roll your eyes playfully. "I can always conjure some up for you?" He feigns offense, hand over his chest. "No thanks, I'm all set. How's the hand feel?" He encourages you to move and flex it until he's satisfied it must feel alright.

The two of you exchange a few more minutes of playful banter before you head back to your living space. 

One Steve Rogers is already perched on your couch, elbows resting on the back with his chin propped on his hands. He looks every bit like a 17 year old girl waiting for gossip. It brings an instant smile to your face.

"How did it go with Bucky?" He grins coyly, fluttering his stupidly long blonde eyelashes at you. 

You laugh. "Good. I think? He's going to attempt to be civil, at least. He admits he feels it too...but he won't act on it. I can't lie, that's disappointing. He's just..."

Steve smiles wider at you, "Super dreamy?" When you give him a look he smiles and shrugs. "What? Just because I'm his best friend doesn't mean I don't notice. I told ya, Buck could charm the pants off anyone."

You plop down onto the couch and level him with a look. "And has he ever charmed your pants off?"

Steve looks adorably bashful for a moment and red as a tomato. "No. I mean before the war he took pity on me. I was sick all the time, sometimes it was scary. Like I might not make it. Buck was my first kiss. We never..."

"Had sex?" He nods. "But we fooled around a little. It was a long time ago. My point is that he's charming when he wants to be. He just has a natural allure for a lot of people. And, at one point, I was no exception."

You smile at that, thinking of poor Steve being so sick and near death and Bucky giving him a little physical comfort. Giving him experiences they weren't sure he'd ever have.

"I wish I had met him back then. Sometimes anyway." Steve laughs at that. "He would have taken you dancing."

You snort. "I'm a terrible dancer."

"Doesn't matter. He made every girl feel like she floated. You could see it. He was also a total slut though." You both burst into laughter at that.

"Can you blame him? He _is_ stupidly pretty." Steve shrugs in agreement. You two easily continue to gossip before settling in to watch TV together and continue to plot about just how to win Bucky over. 

You hope it will be easier now that he's actually speaking to you.


	10. Blank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky Barnes ruins your life a little bit more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really just making this up chapter by chapter as I go along. This one uses a little bit of a trope and it's my take on it. So hopefully you all like this just as much. I'm thinking maybe in the next chapter or two we can have them share their first kiss. So let me know what you think---quick and hard (unexpected) or slow and intense (very purposeful)? Either way the end result will be the same (wouldn't you like to know) just curious as to which one you would like to see more!

The tenuous relationship with Bucky continues over the next week. You say good-morning and he replies, and does his best to keep the sour look off his face when he does. Steve practically beams every single time and gives you excited thumbs-ups when Bucky isn't looking. Natasha and Bruce are still away relaxing god knows where, but there hasn't exactly been much earth-saving activity either. For the most part life at the tower is fairly boring, full of training and exercise but not too much in the way of missions though the public would certainly believe otherwise.

It's late at night on a Saturday (or early morning, but who's judging really) when you find yourself awake and starving so you head down to the kitchens for something more substantial than what's in your sparse cupboards. However, the plan is quickly abandoned when you find Bucky slumped onto the couch in the common room. He's awake, though his eyes are blank and eerily empty. There's a small lamp in the corner that's on, enough to cast dark shadows over his face and make his eyes appear to glow even in the dark.

"Hey Buck," you greet softly, afraid to startle him. He doesn't respond, doesn't even blink so you approach him as cautiously as you can.

He doesn't even flinch when you settle onto the couch next to him. You call his name a little louder and still nothing. For a moment you wonder if you should go retrieve Steve but the thought of leaving Bucky blank and alone like this makes your heart twist in your throat.

Carefully you reach out to touch him, your hand slowly settling onto his shoulder. He blinks then and turns slowly to you, a little life coming back into his eyes as he does. Tenderly you move your hand from his shoulder up to cup his cheek as softly as you can. "You with me, Bucky?" 

Surprisingly he leans into your touch and shuts his eyes with a shudder. "Yeah. M'here." He takes a deep breath. "I just want to sleep," he adds in the quietest tone you've ever heard him use, it's almost a whimper. "They jus' won't stop." You're certain you can feel your heart shatter in your chest and there's pressure behind your eyes as you struggle not to cry for him. Nightmares.

And he does look tired up close; dark cirlces under his eyes, a gaunt and stretched sort of look to his face and a slump to his body that isn't normally there. He's overly exhausted, probably running on fumes at this point. "This okay?" You ask, moving your hand from his cheek and into his hair in a tender carress. Right now you just want only to help your friend, no matter what else he is or how you feel you want to help him in whatever small way that you can manage. 

"Yeah," he rasps without argument, and even allows you to situate him so he's laying down. Next thing you know there's a pillow in your lap and his head on said pillow and your fingers are still gently carding through his hair as he mumbles, "Jus' this once." And it sounds more like he's talking to himself than to you so you stay quiet and let him drift.

It doesn't take long. In mere minutes there's soft snores coming from his open mouth and he looks more at peace than you've ever seen him. You switch on the tv and make sure the volume is barely above a murmur. Because you want to watch over him, make sure he gets sleep and doesn't have anymore nightmares. You'll be guarding him, there to remind him it isn't real and that he's okay.

You're not sure how long you sit there before your own eyes start to drift off because Bucky looks so painfully peaceful and angelic and yes--absolutely gorgeous while he sleeps. But you're only human and at some point your hand stops moving though your fingers are still tangled into his hair and your head drops back against the couch and you join him in slumber.

However long you sleep doesn't feel nearly long enough because you wake to a soft thud against your face and Sam Wilson's voice too chipper for the painful kink that's in your neck. Before your eyes are even open you notice the lack of warmth in your lap which can only mean Bucky got up and left at some point. Though there is a blanket over you now, which is nice. You glower at Sam as you peel your eyes open and sit up properly. "What the actual fuck, Wilson?"

He makes a face and backs off, "Woah someone got up on the wrong side of the couch this morning." He huffs and holds out a steaming mug of coffee. "Just thought you might like a caffeine fix. We're supposed to train together this morning, remember?"

It's hard to fight the glare off your face even after the first few sips of coffee. "I'm not in the mood." He gives a shrug, "Too bad, sweet thang, we gotta. So get up, put on your workout clothes and meet me in the gym in 20. If you're not there I'm coming to your room to douse you in ice water."

Your eye twitches a little at that. "And if you do that I'll stop use that water, turn it into daggers and throw them at you as you run away sqwuaking like the over-grown parrot that you are." Sam laughs jovially at that, though he feigns offense for a brief moment. "Twenty minutes, or I'm coming after you."

So you pull yourself up with your coffee and the blanket that's knitted and fuzzy and a deep gray. It's cozier than any blanket you've seen around here so you take it with you, assuming it belongs to Bucky or he took it for his own at some point. You pull it around yourself like a cape and pout as you trudge up to your room.

Normally you would love to spend the morning bickering playfully and joking around with Sam but today you're not in the mood. All you can think of is empty, blank gray-blue eyes and hair that looks inky black in the dark common room as you run your fingers through it--the soft curve of his mouth and the slope of his nose and the way his eyelashes looked in the shadows. How utterly content he looked sprawled out over the couch and on your lap for goodness sakes.

And how you woke up to find he was gone, though you shouldn't have expected differently. "Just this once" he had murmured before falling asleep and the words make your throat tighten to remember them. Sure it had been a bad circumstance to soothe him to sleep but you can't help but want to do it again. It was nice to touch him, to nearly hold him, and to know that you soothed him enough that he could sleep at least a little.

With a sigh you punch the elevator button for your floor and try to push thoughts of Bucky as far out of your head as you can. It certainly won't improve your mood if you've got to train with an all too happy Sam Wilson. You know Bucky wouldn't want you to check up on him, either, but it's a hard thing to walk past his door and get ready to train with Sam. So, distantly, you hope at some point you'll be able to catch Bucky to try and speak with him later. Until then, maybe you can convince Sam to spar to get him back for lunching a pillow at your face to wake you up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well? Huh? Didja like it? Also reader and Bucky will discuss Sam at some point, eventually, to make it clear she's not in love with him. Sam is in love with himself and also I imagine he's trying to "kill all the ladies" (interview reference, though in the interview he's talking about Seb and Seb blushes and ducks his head and grins all adorably or something similar. Because he's a mythical fucking creature too good for this world).


	11. Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky finally, finally kisses you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's almost scary how accurate my time estimate (9pm EST) was for this post. As it's 9pm right now as I type these notes. I very much hope you all enjoy!

Training with Sam is just about as frustrating as you expect it to be and, try as you may, it's impossible to keep your mind from straying to thoughts of Bucky. What was supposed to be an hour and half workout easily turns into an hour extra because of your distractions. Afterward you're sweating and a little irritable so you shower off the sweat and change into comfy baggy pink pajama shorts and an off the shoulder black flowy top.

It isn't until you're finished that you realize you still have Bucky's burgundy blanket from the night before. So you gather the soft material into your arms and head to his room. You raise your fist and, after a deep breath, give the door three sharp knocks. Bucky hollers from inside, "Come in!" So you push open the door.

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight that greeted you. The door clicks shut with a soft sound behind you and instantly your eyes are on the bare chest of one Bucky Barnes. And he's positively sculpted like a god, his chest damp from a recent shower and water droplets slipping down his naked torso to the sharp lines of his hipbones. The dark gray sweats he wears are slung low, a light happy trail disapearing under the waistband.

You can't force your eyes away, though you try, and the words get stuck sharply in your throat with a helpless sound you had no intention of making. It's somewhere between a whimper and a sigh. Bucky clears his throat softly, "My eyes are up here." And so they are---shining with amusement and there's that damnable smirk on his mouth again. His damp hair looks inky black when wet and you itch to run your fingers through it again.

"I.." you clear your own throat and try to fight of the blush threatening to take over your whole face, "I brought your blanket back. Wanted to check on you." 

"I'm fine." He promises, pulling the blanket from your grasp without touching you. He throws it carelessly onto the back of the sofa, his gaze still locked firmly on yours. "Woke up early, let you sleep." He explains with a shrug. When you say nothing he clears his throat again. "You've gotta stop lookin' at me like that, doll."

A shiver races down your spine at the nickname and, once again, your eyes travel down his chest and decidedly past his hipbones to appreciate the full length of his body. "I don't think I can stop." You confess, barely above a whisper. And it's so so so achingly true. He's beautiful, every last inch of him. Even the scars that are angry and red and puckered unevenly at the juncture of his left shoulder where flesh meets gleaming silver.

As if drawn by a magnet you step closer to him and he backs up. Another step forward, another one back. "(Y/N)" he warns in a near growl, his hands curled into fists at his sides. Your eyes flash up to his again. "Bucky," you echo.

You're halfway through drawing in a ragged breath, ready to apologize for outright eye-fucking him when he lunges foward and shoves your back into the wall. "Just this once," he murmurs before his lips claim yours. For the first few seconds it's soft, tender, and it makes your whole body tingle down to your toes and your blood sing. The second your fingers wind into his hair he kisses you harder, teeth nibbling your lower lip and sucking it into his mouth.

His hands grip your hips almost painfully, your bodies pressed tightly against each other. Your hands fall to his chest and downward and back up, around his shoulders before your nails rake down his back. He moans into your mouth, slipping his tongue into your mouth to lay claim to every inch of your mouth. The tip of his tongue traces the roof of your mouth, circles your own and his teeth drag once more over your lip until you whimper. One flesh hand, rough and calloused and still impossibly soft and one cold and metal and smooth slip under your shirt and up your ribcage.

Bucky pulls your body into his, pressing his hips against yours in a slow grind. Through your clothes you can feel the hard outline of his cock and it has you lifting your leg to hitch at his waist and drag him even closer to you so he presses exactly where you need him; right against your pulsing clit.

It's almost embarrassing to note how wet you are, how much you want him and how willing you would be to beg for it. Anything. Everything. Whatever gets him to actually touch you. He grinds against you slow and hard, your fingers fisted in his hair again and you tug. 

Bucky pulls back from you slowly, his lips meeting yours for several softer, chaste kisses before he pulls your wrists to remove your hands from his hair and he steps back several passes. You whine when he does, though you drag in your own ragged breath. 

Inside your chest your heart is hammering wildly, beating in your ears so loudly it's hard to hear anything else. Your entire body is trembling, aching for him and he'd in truth barely touched you. You swallow hard, fingers coming up to touch your lips as you watch him close his eyes and take several steadying breaths. 

"I shouldn'ta done that." He rasps, grabbing a shirt from god knows where and dragging it over his chest before he turns, setting his palms on the back of the couch. You can see the muscles in his back twitching slightly under the strain of staying still.

Your own voice is foreign and strange to your ears, aroused and broken and needy in all the best ways, "I think you should do it again." You can see just enough of his face and his guard is down enough for you to see how the words affect him--his eyes squeeze shut and he bites his bottom lip roughly, fingertips digging into the couch back. "That's not a good idea, much as I want to."

After several long minutes Bucky seems to regain his composure and he turns back to you though he doesn't quite meet your eyes. "I really shouldn'ta done that. M'sorry." 

"I'm not."

He bites back a smile, the upward twitch of the corner of his mouth giving him away. "I know. But I need you to go." He swallows tightly. "Please."

And as much as you don't want to go, want to stay and talk about it something in his gaze also begs you not to. There's a feeling weighing your stomach. Half of you thinks that if you go your progress will be wrecked and he will go back to ignoring you or being downright cruel and it sends an icy dagger right into your chest. The other part says that he just needs to take it slow and that, if you do as he asks and are patient with him you may get a repeat and, christ, do you want one.

You try for light, nonchalant, when you nod. "If I go, will you kiss me again tomorrow?" He ducks his head and his hair falls into his eyes when he grins. "I ain't gonna ignore you." You raise an eyebrow at that and keep your gaze locked on him. He knows that's what you really wanted to ask, somehow, without you actually having asked it. 

"Is that a maybe, Sergeant?" You ask as you move toward the door, satisfied with his answer if nothing else (because there's definitely a pressing need between your thighs if the way your underwear clings to your wet folds is any indication). He shakes his head, still keeping his gaze on the floor. He shakes his head no but it doesn't look or feel like a no, not in your gut.

Just before the door clicks shut behind you he murmurs a quiet, "Goodnight, (Y/N)."

Your knees nearly go weak and it's almost impossible to get the wobbly Bambi-like legs to carry you to your bed where you collapse with a huge grin and a squeal into your pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....thoughts? Hope it lived up to the hype!


	12. Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Typed on mobile. I wasn't fully intending for things to go this way but it just kinda happened. No smut yet. Let me know what y'all think. (I'm not sure how long this will be or where it will end, ahyuck. I make this up as I go. Literally chapter by chapter. Is that obvious?)

Bucky doesn't kiss you the next day or the one after that or the one after that. He stays true to his word, though, and doesn't ignore you. He says good morning and talks and jokes with you but it does nothing to settle the fire in your blood. 

He does his best not to make eye contact with you, though you can tell in small ways the strain that his self control is under. 

Finally, late one night, you can't take it anymore. You can't sleep because all you can think about is the press of his lips against yours and his hard cock against your pulsing clit. Even after getting yourself off twice you can't quiet your body's nagging enough to sleep.

With a frustrated huff you drag yourself out of bed and slip on a pink silk robe and tie it shut. It just barely skims the tops of your thighs. 

Your knock is quiet and soft in all the ways your heart is not in its pounding. Bucky's hair is messy and he's wearing black sweats again and a navy blue hoodie. 

"Fuck," he chokes when he sees you, dragging you inside and shutting the door firmly behind you. "You tryna kill me?" He rasps, eyes raking down your body shamelessly.

You shake your head and fight the urge to reach out to him. "I can't stop thinking about you." You confess. His eyes darken and the muscle in his jaw twitches.

He stays quiet though, unmoving.

"Tell me you haven't stopped thinking about me either," you plead. His eyelashes flutter, the muscle in his jaw ticking once more. Still silent.

"Please kiss me." You beg, tugging his hand. Bucky steps closer to you, drops his forehead to rest against yours.

"What about Sam?" He asks softly, his breath ghosting over your lips. Your eyebrows draw together in confusion. "What about him? What do you mean?"

Bucky steps back again, removing himself from you. "You're in love with him. I won't be a distraction."

A nearly hysterical laugh bursts out of your chest. "You're an idiot. Sam is my friend. _Only_ my friend. I like you, Bucky, and I'm pretty sure you like me too."

He looks surprised, a little bashful and maybe even a little ashamed.

"Still doesn't mean it's a good idea, doll. M'not good for you. And yea, I want ya. But I'm...there's...I just can't. For a lot of reasons. Ya don't want me."

"Yes I do!" You snap, stomping your foot. "How can you say that I don't?"

"You can't. I'm...I'm broken, alright? I may not be the soldier anymore but he's still in there! Do you get that? I could hurt you, when I have a nightmare. I don't know how to do this anymore, okay? So just stop! All I'll do is ruin you. Take everything good about you and wreck it because I can't remember how to belong to anyone."

His face is red and flushed and there's a dampness to his eyes. He'd been half-shouting for most of it, but the last bit is spoken so quietly you can hear your heart splinter like old bark over his confession. 

"But you want to. You want to belong to me?" You reach out to touch him but he flinches back as if burned. Still he nods his head in the affirmative. 

Your breath hitches in your throat, your own eyes getting glassy and watery. You blink and a few of the tears escape to roll down your cheeks. 

"Please don't cry, baby." He begs and finally reaches out to touch you, gently thumbing the tears away from your cheeks. You lean into his touch, catching his hand in yours to hold it to your cheek.

"Let me show you how to belong to someone again. We can take it slow. Anything you want. Just..stop telling me to stop, Bucky. Please."

He thumbs away another stray tear and bends to kiss you chastely for a brief second before he pulls you into his chest in a tight hug. 

"I can't promise you anything, doll, but I'll try."

You stay like that for what feels like hours, your face buried in Bucky's strong chest and his hands cradling the back of your head and one wrapped around your waist. 

He gives you one more gentle and just as chaste kiss that's more of a peck before you part ways. Bucky makes it clear he just absolutely needs to take things slow if you're going to try this.

And it's also late and he insists you try once more to sleep with a promise that you'll talk more soon. 

With that in mind you bid each other goodnight and, this time, when you settle into the soft comforter you fall asleep almost instantly.


	13. Slow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't gonna post this cos I'm not sure how I like it (I don't think I do). But I'm awake again when I shouldn't be and it just kinda happened. Haha. So here you go, I suppose. No idea how long it is as I typed it up on my mobile so hopefully it's long enough..ish.

The next morning Bruce and Natasha return so you all have breakfast together. The large dining room table is loaded with an array of foods; belgian waffles, hash browns, sausage, bacon, fruit, scrambled and hard boiled eggs and at least four different kinds of muffins all courtesy of Tony Stark.

As it happens Bucky sits on your left with Steve across from you. Tony, of course, sits at the head of the table. Your knee nearly bashes into the solid wood when Bucky takes your hand gently under the table and laces his fingers through yours.

Across from you Steve catches on instantly and his eyes go comically wide for a minute before a big dopey grin breaks out and he waggles his eyebrows cheekily. It's hard to fight off your own dopey grin, though you're barely trying.

If the rest of the team notices they say nothing. Some have soft smiles like Wanda and Bruce or smirks like Natasha. Sam just looks shocked and maybe a little confused. 

"So, good vacation then? It looks so beautiful there." You sigh wistfully after Natasha shows you about a dozen photos.

"It was great. We'll have to go back on a girl's trip sometime." She nods at Wanda too. "We'll just get drunk and lay on the beach all day."

Bucky's thumb makes slow circles on the back of your hand and over your knuckles. "Sounds like heaven." You squeeze his hand just a little tighter.

"No slip ups with the big green guy?" Sam asks and Tony snorts, "If there were I'm sure it would have made the six o'clock news." 

Bruce grins a little shyly, "I've got a pretty good handle on the big guy these days." He smiles fondly at Natasha in a way that makes your heart melt for them.

Under the table Bucky pulls your hand into his lap so the back of your hand rests of his muscular thigh. He unlaces your fingers to caress your open palm with the tips of his fingers.

You can't concentrate enough to fully participate in the conversation from there. After breakfast the two of you head back upstairs when he meets your eyes and nods in that general direction.

The elevator ride up is silent and charged. He keeps his hands to himself until you're outside his room where he takes hold of your hand again to pull you inside and into his arms.

He presses his nose into the crook of your neck and breathes deeply for a moment. "M'sorry, sugar." Your cheek is pressed into his chest so you can hear the thrum of his heart.

"What for?"

"Wanted to kiss ya good morning." He explains. You know he means he wasn't quite ready to hear it from the team, especially Tony or Sam and really neither are you. You don't want them to tease him or make him feel awkward about it.

"It's okay. But I've been in here a whole minute now and you still haven't ki--"

He cuts you off immediately with a slow kiss, one hand cupping the back of your head and the other making slow circles on your hip with his fingertips.

It's slow and sweet and he takes his time to kiss you breathless, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth until you whine and bunch your hands into the fabric of his shirt. Your knees nearly buckle at the look in his eyes when we pulls back and tugs you over to the couch.

"I know we should talk, but I really wanna kiss ya again," he confesses, dragging you onto his lap. So you do, carding your fingers through his hair and pulling to angle his mouth up towards yours. 

You part only when the need to breathe becomes too much and begin placing soft kisses over his jaw and down is throat. He tips his head to give you better access and grips your hips tightly.

"This okay?" You murmur into his throat, nipping at his pulse and soothing the sting with your tongue.

"Yeah, yes." He rasps, pulling your hips to rock you against him. Beneath you his cock is hard in his sweats, pressed firmly against your own aching core.

While you lay claim to his throat Bucky guides your hips to rock against him slowly. "Feel what you do to me?" He moans when you reach a particularly sensitive spot and thrusts his hips upward against you. 

It seems to snap both of your resolves and, in a flash his mouth is sealed to yours again in a needy kiss. Your hips press down harder against him with a whimper.

His hands slip under your shirt to caress you back and guide your hips against him just how he wants it. He pulls away from your mouth to let his head drop back and his eyes flutter shut.

"Fuck, stop baby." But his hands keep guiding your hips into his to grind you against his cock. "If you don't I'm gonna cum." His eyes flutter open partway to lock on yours. 

"So do it." You whimper breathlessly, wanting nothing more than to feel him come undone beneath you. "Cum for me."

His breath hitches and his flesh hand moves to the waistband of your shorts before dipping beneath them and your underwear. His thumb finds your wet clit and rubs in firm, quick circles over the bud.

"Not without you, baby. Want to cum watching you. So beautiful." He rasps, pressing open mouthed kisses to your throat. He nips at the space where your neck and shoulder meet and sucks a bruise into the skin.

You grip his hair and his shirt as your hips roll harder and faster into his as he makes those circles over your clit again and again.

"Tell me you're close, doll." You whimper, "Yeah, fuck. So close, Bucky."

He dips his head to bite at the tops of your breasts and you gasp sharply, arching into the hot press of his mouth.

"That's it, baby. C'mon. Cum for me." He begs and you're helpless to do anything but obey, your back arching against him and your head falls forward slightly as your toes curl and pleasure bursts underneath your skin in rolling waves. 

Your eyes catch his just as his own hips still and he follows you into blissful madness with one long, low moan of your name.

You exchange soft kisses between the two of you for several long minutes, your muscles still twitching with the aftershocks of your orgasm until his nose wrinkles and he sets you gently on the couch beside him.

"I'm gonna clean up, kay?" He bites his lip shyly as you nod, still catching your breath. "Wait here for me?"

He doesn't move until you give him a bright smile and nod again, "As long as it takes." You promise, not just talking about him cleaning himself up. You're certain he knows that when he bends to kiss you quickly one last time before disappearing down the hall.

So much for slow, you think, as you try to settle your breathing to normal and calm the racing of your heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that happened.


	14. Tell me something

"Bucky?" You prod several minutes later, wrapped in his arms with your back against his chest. Both of his arms are around you, his cheek resting on top of your head. 

"Yeah, darlin'?"

"Tell me something," you murmur. "Anything."

He's quiet for a long beat. "You terrify me," he finally replies. You can't help but laugh softly, shaking against him. Not because him being terrified is funny but because of his reputation.

The surly man behind you is no longer the winter soldier, sure, but he could kill a man with a cotton ball if he wanted to. He can move silently over any terrain even in the dead of night when even the moon is absent.

He's a shadow with a face, should he choose to be. He isn't the soldier but they share a body---one that is built and efficient, militarily trained with weapons from knives to guns to grenades. You know for a fact he can disassemble his guns blindfolded and reassemble them. 

Hell, he could probably hit an object the size of a penny from several hundred yards away. Bucky is easily double your weight and fluent in at least three languages that you know of.

Controlling the elements is a strong power, sure, but in comparison you are clumsy and bumbling, awkwardly loud and downright soft.

Bucky nips your shoulder gently to stifle your laughter. "Don't you wanna hear why?"

"Of course I do. I'm sorry."

His arms tighten around you. "Because I can't control myself with you. You make me feel...safe."

"And that terrifies you?"

"Yea. Stevie is safe, too, but he's been there you know? He's...he's like home. There's no one else that feels that way. Or wasn't, until you. You feel like home too." He confesses and you can feel the heat of his blushing cheeks through your hair. And you don't want him to be alone in his embarrassment.

"After you fell asleep in my lap I stayed awake just to keep playing with your hair. To really look at you." You took a breath, "You're the most gorgeous man I've ever seen. I was gonna stay awake just to keep watch over you. I wanted you to sleep, wake up with me holding you."

You're certain your own cheeks are as red as tomatoes but at least now you're even. 

"I did. Gave you my favorite blanket," he chuckles, kissing just behind your ear. "That was the best night's sleep I've gotten in.....i don't even know how long. Thank you." 

"Any time." After that a comfortable silence falls over you both, content to just hold each other and let your cheeks return to normal hues. 

That is, until your stomach grumbles loudly with hunger. It's Bucky's turn to laugh then, his hulking frame shaking behind you.

"Wanna go down and get some food?"

"No. I want to order food and keep snuggling you just like this. If that's okay..."

"Mmm, what do you wanna order?"

About 45 minutes later you've got about a dozen white takeout boxes with various Chinese dishes. You arm yourself with a fork while Bucky uses chopsticks.

Once you've taken a few bites you look over to Bucky inhaling a mouthful of noodles. You wait until he swallows to speak.

"Bucky, does this mean you're me fella?" You ask with a coy grin. 

He doesn't miss a beat, "Long as your my best girl, sugar." He winks and you blush furiously at the smirk on his lips. No matter how charming you tried to be you were certain he could out-match you. 

"Steve's right, you could charm the slime off a slug," you huff with a laugh and take another bite.

"You and Stevie gossiping about me?"

"Maybe. He thinks you're dreamy, too."

His own cheeks go red and you feel a swell of pride in your chest at having put it there. 

"That punk told you didn't he?" He grins again and you want to freeze his face so it gets stuck that way. 

"Told me what?" You ask innocently until he levels you with a look. "Okay yeah maybe he said you took pity on him. Didn't give me the details. Just said it wasn't "all the way" and it was because he was sick."

You shrug as Bucky shakes his head, still smiling, "Wasn't all pity. But he likes to think so."

"I bet you charmed every girl. Do you remember how many you charmed the pants off of?"

"Even if I did, an' I don't, a gentleman never tells. Only one that matters now, anyhow." He leans over to kiss your cheek sweetly. 

"Well, technically speaking my pants never came off. I'm not sure that counts." You snort.

"Not yet anyway."

The two of you eat way too much food, drink a little wine and settle to sprawl across the couch in a tangled heap of limbs. Once more you find your fingers brushing soothingly through his hair and across his stubbled cheek. 

You stay like that, locked in each other's arms until you start to drift off slowly, lulled by the food and the wine and your fella into sleep. 

Just before you're fully out you feel Bucky's lips press tenderly to your forehead and wrap his arms just a little tighter around you. 

In second you're snoring, your head pillowed on his chest and your fingers still wrapped around silky strands of his hair.


	15. Panic

Over the next few days you and Bucky settle into a routine of sorts. He holds your hand under the table at breakfast, and, after training the two of you hang out in your room or his. Sometimes you're there an hour and sometimes you spend the rest of the day by his side.

Steve definitely notices but holds back on saying anything just yet. You figure they all probably know but are wise enough to give you two space to figure it out. It works for you because the last thing you want is for Bucky to be scared off by his over-eager gossip best friend or any sort of teasing (mostly Tony and Sam).

And things are miraculously, terribly good. He kisses you like he means to make you forget your own name, holds you, and the two of you talk. The serious bits are shared slowly, sparsely, and there's a conscious effort to keep things purposefully light.

So it comes as nothing short of a shock to wake to rough pounding at your door one night. You're still rubbing sleep from your eyes when you pull open the door to find Bucky.

He looks white as a sheet and there's a sheen of sweat over his body. The black t-shirt he wears is wet and crumpled, twisted awkwardly around his body. Even his matching sweats seem to be twisted in the wrong direction and his long hair is messy and wild--much like his eyes that sweep over you again and again.

"Bucky? Are you alright?" His flesh palm is clenched into a fist, the glint of a blade visible in the dim hall lighting. You swallow hard.

"Are you?" Bucky pushes bodily past you, barely stopping to flip on the lights. 

"Of course I am, what's happened?" He either doesn't hear you or doesn't respond so you follow him from room to room as he flips on lights and checks every nook and cranny of your living space--as if he's expecting the shadows to come alive and come out swinging.

Finally, when he's certain it's empty he crumples to the bed breathing raggedly with the knife still clenched in his fist.

"Baby, what happened?" You ask as you move toward him slowly. 

"Nightmare. Just a nightmare." 

He lets you unclench his fist and take the knife as he trembles, finally meets your eyes.

"I'm right here, Bucky. I'm okay." You tenderly place his open palm on your cheek so he can feel you properly with your eyes still locked on his. 

The touch seems to soothe him almost immediately, relief coloring his cheeks a little more before he grabs your shirt and hauls you into his chest, clamping his arms around you to hold you close.

He lets out a shuddering breath. "Don't wanna talk about it." He murmurs into your throat.

Your fingers card gently through his hair. "We don't have to."

"I just need to hold you." It nearly tears you apart to hear that it sounds so much like an apology. Like he has reason to feel badly for making sure you're safe.

"As long as you need. You wanna stay here tonight?" Your lips press against his hair as he nods against your shoulder. 

Slowly you get him to move enough so you're both laying down, with your body atop his under the fluffy blue comforter. You don't even mind that his shirt is still damp, as he's still shivering against you.

"I'm just gonna keep talking okay? And I want you to know you don't have to say anything because I know you're listening. I'm just...I want you to be okay. You're always welcome to come here, okay?"

You take a deep breath before continuing, "I don't care what time it is or why it is or any of it. You can always come here. Even if you just want to kiss me or hold me or see me."

He relaxes a little more as you talk, loosening his hold a little to caress your back and cradle your head against his chest.

"This helps, doll. I am sorry if I scared you though."

"Bucky, I hate to break it to you but you've never scared me. Not in the way you mean it." You angle your head to see his eyes properly and give him your best smile.

"You're a surly teddy bear, you know that? You're about as scary to me as a penguin " 

He snorts at that, finally relaxing some.

"A penguin?" Bucky raises his eyebrow in surprise and amusement.

"Well yeah. Maybe one of those ones with the yellow on their heads? Cos to some people they look a little intimidating, I suppose. They're the most sinister a penguin can look, anyway, but then they waddle around in their little tuxedos and they're not even remotely scary."

Bucky shakes his head. "You're absolutely ridiculous, didja know that?" But there's a hint of a smile on his lips as he says it. 

"I did, actually, I was hoping you wouldn't realize until after you were already hooked on me."

"Who says I ain't?" He meets your eyes before leaning down to kiss you so tenderly you can practically feel yourself melt into him. He's finally stopped shaking completely.

"Thank you," he adds, hugging you a little closer. "It won't always be so easy you know. It's usually much worse."

"James Barnes, stop trying to talk me out of wanting you." You scold, because that's exactly what it sounds like he's doing. "You're not getting rid of me, okay? I won't let you. Not as long as you want me. And even after that, I'll still be here."

He stays quiet after that, lets you hold him as he holds you. It's not the most comfortable with his left shoulder under your head, the metal prodding at your skin, but you can't bring yourself to move.

Bucky's heartbeat thrums under your ear, the gentle beat of it paired with his hands still caressing you softly is enough to lull you to sleep.

You're not even aware of it happening. One minute you're awake and the next your body turns to jello in his hold and your eyes go droopy before sleep drags you under.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the details in this are going to be a bit light/not super intense or downright spotty. That is done very much on purpose, both to highlight how the Reader is experiencing it (while hopefully giving you enough detail to understand) and because I somewhat plan to go into more detail later (possibly) about those events. Enjoy! Maybe have tissues handy?

Hours later you were shaken awake with a soft call of your name. You grumbled, burying yourself back into the covers with a whine. "Too early." Bucky's laugh sounded gently in your ear. "I know, baby. But I have to go." At that you shot up like a bullet, confusion on your sleepy face and a pout on your lips. "Go?" You echoed.

Bucky was already dressed head to toe in his tactical gear, a rueful smile on his lips. "Got a soft mission," he explained, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. "Jus' me an' Stevie and Sam, Clint and Natasha....and Bruce....Tony. Got a report an an abandoned HYDRA base. There's indications that there's more information there on future activity."

"Wasn't HYDRA completely wiped out?" You pouted, leaning into his touch.

"No, never completely. Probably a false alarm, but we want to be sure so we're prepared." He explained.

You pouted again, "Wait, soft mission? It sounds like everyone is going but me." You couldn't help but feel a little annoyed at that.

Bucky looked chagrined, "That's...that's my fault," he cleared his throat. "It's not because I don't think you can handle yourself, okay? I just...I don't want you near anything to do with HYDRA, okay? It's...I'm..." He sighed heavily, dragging a hand down his face. "I'm different around that stuff, yeah? I don't want you to see it, or me. Can you stay here for me?"

When he explained it like that you found it very difficult to be upset, so you sighed and gave him a sleepy smile. "I guess, for you, I can laze around the tower all day. I'm warning you though, I'm gonna steal your shirts and I'm gonna eat all your snacks." 

Bucky laughed, relief coloring his face. "Whatever you want," he promised, bending to give you a slow and sweet kiss. "Thank you for understanding."

"Yeah yeah, I'm a real catch." You gave him another smile. "You're lucky I'm so fond of my fella."

His ears tinged pink at that, a genuine smile pulling at his own lips before he bent to kiss you once more. A throat cleared from the doorway where Steve stood grinning, bouncing on the heels of his feet. "I hate to break this up, but we do have to go. Wheels up in 10." 

Steve ducked out with another bright smile, leaving you and Bucky alone once more. You grabbed onto his tactical vest, pulling him into a deep and passionate kiss. When you broke apart you kissed the corner of his mouth, "Go on, soldier. I'll see you when you get back."

He nuzzled into your cheek for a quick moment with a sigh, dragging himself away from you. Bucky turned back to you once he reached the door, offering you a cheeky salute before he disappeared.

After he left you tried in vain to go back to sleep so, with a sigh, you forced yourself out of Bucky's bed and into his shower. Afterwards you tugged on one of his shirts and the smallest pair of shorts you could find in his dresser.

For the most part the day was quiet, dragging listlessly on. Eventually it was time for dinner so you made your way downstairs. On your way to the elevator you called out to F.R.I.D.A.Y to let you know what was in the master fridge so you could decide what you wanted to make before you got there.

You were met with silence that weighed heavily in the pit of your stomach as you stepped off the elevator. You tried once more and got nothing once again. Before you could even frown there was a loud explosion from somewhere down the hall. It made the ground beneath your feet shake and, within seconds there was the sound of what seemed to be at least two dozen footsteps.

Quickly you yanked your phone upward and found Bucky's name, sending a single word in as quickly as you could.

_Help_

Just as you hit send a wave of black swarmed the hall from either side. Noisly your phone clattered to the ground. Shots rang out as you darted back toward the elevator. As you moved you felt heat race down to your fingertips as you pulled water from the air and facility around you. 

With the adrenaline pumping through your system you knew you had managed to reach the pool at least a dozen yards down the hall. The figures in all black closed in around you and, with a scream, you forced water into the halls. Several men were swept instantly off their feet with the rush of water. Dimly you could make out ice shards as well in the air, falling with shattering sounds that echoed along with screams of pain as they hit their targets.

It was as if your powers took over for you and your vision whited out and there was nothing but a dull roar of sound in your ears. You could barely make out the men in black as you forced the water up and over their bodies again and again.

Wind whipped at the water, your limbs moving of their own accord in a desperate attempt to take them all down. The water spiraled and climbed into several small tornadoes, sweeping up the men as they moved and sending bullets flying in every direction. 

You barely even noticed how close they got to you, so focused as you were on saving yourself. The men kept coming in waves and panic weighed heavily into your stomach like an anchor dropped at sea. Everything was a blur of sights and sounds that you couldn't quite process as it was happening. 

All you could remember was a terrible scream ripping through the air, hardly recognizing it as your own, before your palms slammed into the ground and, outward from your palms, large pieces of cement and metal and earth rolled upward, large chunks flying into body after body.

There were several loud crunching sounds, screams of pain and horror, warm blood spatter over your face. All of it was like watching someone else through a thick haze. Slowly and all at once the sound ceased, sometime after the third or fourth wave of rock and water that you'd sent barreling through the hall.

With silence reigning and your chest heaving your body went limp, crumpling soundlessly to the ground as you lost consciousness.

There was a dull and steady beep in your ears, your head ached unlike any pain you'd ever had before and your entire body echoed that sentiment. A groan pulled itself from your lips, though you weren't sure it made a sound at all. Slowly you forced your eyes open, shutting them immediately against the bright lights.

Instantly there was a dull murmur and the sting of the lights lessened, the room darkening. When you opened your eyes again it was to the entire team in the medbay of the tower. Bucky was holding your hand, though you couldn't feel anything but pressure rather than the actual sensation of it. With another groan you felt something warm rush into your veins and the sharp, thudding pain lessened considerably almost instantly.

"Baby, are you okay?" You watched as Bucky bent to kiss your knuckles. His eyes were rimmed red and there were tear stains on his cheeks. 

You said nothing, consumed by a feeling so empty and hollow and heavy that you couldn't put a name to.

"Gave us quite a scare," Steve added, wiping his own tear stained face and trying to give you a bright smile. He failed miserably. 

"Do you remember what happened, sweet thang?" Sam asked hesitantly and Bucky didn't even glare at him for the use of the nickname, given the circumstances.

"Pieces," you croaked, the single word taking a lot of effort to force from your throat.

Natasha cleared her throat, ducking her head in something akin to shame, "They drew us away from the tower. We're not sure if they knew you would be here or not. There's only a few of them left ali-"

Steve cut her off with a sharp, "Natasha!"

Bile rose up in your stomach though you clamped your jaw shut tightly agains the sudden need to puke. How many was a few? How many had there been, exactly? You could only remember waves of water, pieces of broken rock....water tornadoes? The rest was fuzzy around the edges but, then, you had the feeling it was while it had been happening as well. How could that be? How could you not realize what you were doing while you were doing it?

You looked to Bucky, trying to read his face, but he was impossible to read and still pressing relieved kisses to your knuckles. It just registered that they were bandaged, as if they had broken open and, by the dark stains spotted over the white gauze, you guessed that they had broken open at some point. 

The team seemed to sense your need to be alone so they offered you soft smiles and excused themselves for various reasons. Your eyes remained solely on Bucky as they piled out one by one though each one looked as if they wanted to stay and question you more. Bucky shot them all the same murderous stare if it even looked like they might do more than wish you well on their way out.

When the team cleared out he stood, leaning over you to press delicate kisses to your forehead. Even that you could barely feel, just the slightest tingle of sensation. He took a deep, jagged breath as more tears fell from his eyes and onto your skin. 

For a moment he pulled back and his eyes connected with yours, pain written in his pale orbs but he did his best to offer you a smile. "We don't have to talk about it, okay? Just...is there anything I can get for you? Anything." He kissed your cheeks and your nose and the corners of your mouth with a tenderness that made your heart ache but your stomach roll painfully. 

"Ice." You told him, fighting off the tremble you could feel under your skin and in your throat. "Please?" Bucky pressed a quick, chaste kiss to your lips. "Of course, doll. I'll be right back okay?"

He darted up and out of the room as soon as you nodded, moving as quickly as he could to grab the ice and bring it back to you. As soon as he stepped out you took a deep, shuddering breath, tears prickling at your eyes.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y?" You called, and the AI instantly responded.

"Yes miss?"

You swallowed hard, "Please deny access to everyone but medical personnel."

The AI paused before replying with a curt, "Yes, miss."

With that you rolled over and draged a pillow over your head, holding it to your ear as hard as you could. Less than a minute later you heard the door handle jiggle and refuse to budge.

"Baby?" Bucky called out to you, confusion and hurt making his voice tight and sharper than normal. "Baby, open the door." He knocked in case you hadn't heard him, jiggling the door again. "Baby, please don't do this." You could hear the cup of ice clatter to the door as he tried again and again to knock, to open it, the call your name. 

The flat hospital pillow did next to nothing to block out the hurt you could hear in his voice, the panic, and your stomach rolled with another tight pinch. You kept your jaw shut tight in an effort not to be sick, letting sobs tear out ofFina your mouth as he begged you to open the door, to let him in, to talk to him.

You heard him ask the AI to open the door, could hear the cry of pain as she refused him. It seemed to last for hours, his frantic knocking and pleading and trying the door again and again though he knew it was in vain. Finally you could hear his back hit the door with an audible thump and a shuffling sound as he slid down the door.

"I'm not goin' anywhere, baby. Please, please let me in."

You refused to respond, keeping the pillow held tightly over your ear as you tried to block out everything. The night dragged on until the empty, hollow feeling consumed you and you could hear nothing but the dull roar in your ears once more. The black abyss was somehow comforting. That, along wih the pain meds, dragged you into something similar to sleep though your eyes were wide open and staring at the wall. 

The last thing you heard was Bucky pleading with you one more time, "(Y/N), please, I'll do anything. I'm so sorry I wasn't here. Don't shut me out. I need you."


	17. Chapter 17

Slowly, distantly, you became aware of a cacophony of sound outside your hospital room. It was the unmistakable sound of several voices all trying to talk over each other.

"It's my goddamn med bay! The whole building is mine! It has...used to have my name on it!!" Stark.

"She's my best friend, can't I go in there?!" Steve.

"She's our teammate!"

"Maybe she'll listen to me!"

"She's my girlfriend!" That one sent a sharp pang through your heart, bile still rolling in your stomach.

"I know you all want to see her but she's refused anyone but authorized personnel. I'm sorry, you'll have to leave before I call security."

You could practically feel the tension through the door. Hear the hurt and confusion in all of their voices. Only the doctor was calm and crisp, brooking no room for argument.

There were several shuffling sounds before there was a swipe and a beep and the doctor stepped in to check on you. Your focus was elsewhere as she explained you simply needed fluids, pain meds and lots of rest and she encouraged you to order food to avoid upsetting your stomach.

Beyond that you tuned her out, uncaring how rude it was to not respond to her. She left the room with another chipper beep though the door didn't snick shut as you expected.

Not right away anyway. Panic flared up your spine. Without turning you knew he had snuck into the room somehow as the doctor had left. You couldn't, wouldn't look at him.

"Please don't shut me out." He begged. You could practically see how tense his body was, how tired and hurt. You could hear it in his voice.

"You shouldn't be in here."

He did move then, coming around to your side of the bed so that he could see your face. Out of the corner of your eyes you could see him perfectly; hair disheveled as if he'd been pulling at it all night outside your room, his lips swollen and bitten, dark circles under his eyes and fat tears still clinging to his lashes.

"Why are you doing this?" He got down on his knees in front of you, reaching out to caress your cheek with the tips of his fingers.

You flinched back sharply, clamping your eyes shut. "You were right, okay? We aren't good together. For each other."

New moisture gathered in his eyes, his hands clenched tightly into fists to keep himself from touching you.

"No, I wasn't. You think...you think anything about what happened makes me want you any less?" He didn't give you a chance to answer. "I'm so goddamn fuckin' proud of ya, baby."

You shook your head furiously, fighting back the urge to vomit once more. "I killed them all."

There was a hard set to his jaw for a moment, understanding dawning in his eyes. "They attacked you, woulda taken you if they had the chance. I'm sorry, so goddamn sorry you had to do it, but I'm not sorry for what happened to them."

You shook your head again, "I barely remember it. I don't even know how many there were. Just...I panicked. I've never..they were....I've never killed anyone." Your throat felt painfully tight and dry, tears spilling over your cheeks.

On reflex Bucky reached up to thumb them away. Before he could make contact you flinched back once more. "Please don't touch me."

Bucky flinched as well at that, nodding tightly as he sniffled back another wave of tears. "You wouldn't hurt me, baby, if that's what you're worried about." That much he could understand, knew the pain of all too well.

"I can't feel it," you sobbed, the dam holding your tears breaking loose. Your chest felt like it was caving in under the ragged thrum of your heart. 

"What?" He choked out.

"I don't want you to touch me because I can't feel it. Everything feels so wrong, hollow. Please, Bucky, just go away."

He sucked in a sharp breath but shook his head no, his face crumpling. "Please don't make me. Don't ask me to. I'll sit in the corner, okay? I won't talk if you don't want me to. I swear, baby, please. Just don't ask me to leave. You're just in shock, that's all baby."

You were both crying fully and openly now, your breaths becoming uneven and heavy as your heart continued to thunder in your chest. 

Bucky shushed you softly. "Breathe, doll. Breathe with me." Slowly you followed the slow and even breaths he exaggerated for you until your heart calmed some and your breaths mostly evened out.

"I'll do whatever you want me to, (Y/N). But I'm not gonna let you shut me out. I need to make sure you're okay. So, even if you tell me to go I'm gonna be right outside."

When you said nothing he swallowed tightly once more. "I was wrong for ever trying to push you away. Was jus' scared. Too afraid to let myself have anything good. I can't lose you now, before we've even really had each other. I'll do anything....just please don't ask me to leave." He begged before falling silent.

Even if you wanted to you couldn't have asked him to leave. Your throat felt too tight and too raw, your body utterly exhausted beyond measure and every time you opened your mouth you felt like you were going to be sick. 

As exhausted as you were sleep seemed impossible. Had you even slept at all since being admitted? Well, since waking up? You were fairly certain you hadn't bit it was difficult to tell.

With a sharp twist to your gut you resolutely refused to look at, speak to or even think of Bucky if you could avoid it. Part of you wanted nothing more than for him to hold you, but you wouldn't be able to feel it.

Distantly you realized you could have asked the doctor if she had any clue why you couldn't feel beyond dull sensations. You didn't even feel remotely hungry or thirsty. Just painfully ill and empty and heavy.

The silence dragged on and weighed heavily in the room, though you could feel Bucky's eyes on you even as you stared blankly at the wall with your jaw clamped so tightly you could feel your teeth grinding against one another.

Along with the silence you felt as if a chasm had opened up inside of you, a swirling dark mass consuming everything in its path. You couldn't help but feel as.if the same chasm existed between you and Bucky now, once more.

Though this time you were the one that put it there.

An unknown amount of time passed in the heavy silence. The doctor came in once more and was startled to see Bucky.

"You shouldn't be in here!" She snapped sharply at him, "Go or I'll call security."

Once more you could feel Bucky's eyes on you imploringly. Without words you realized he was pleading you to tell her it was okay that he stay, that he was approved. But your throat was still on fire and tight, your muscles weak and body exhausted. And you couldn't decide if you wanted him to stay or go.

With a stuttered inhale Bucky sniffed sharply once, and nodded. "Okay, sweetheart. I'll be right outside that door when you're ready."

He sounded so dejected and forlorn that you took pity on him for a brief moment, giving him a nearly imperceptible nod. Given the relieved exhale that escaped him he took it in stride as progress, slipping out the door before the doctor lost her shit on him.

As promised he stayed posted at the door as you ate a dinner you couldn't much taste, took your pain meds once more and asked for something for sleep.

Again you forgot to ask the doctor about why you couldn't feel much or if sensation would return. If it wasn't going to come back did you really want to know anyway?


	18. Chapter 18

Steve sat down next to Bucky outside your hospital room, resting his back against the wall with a sigh. "Any luck?"

Bucky shrugged, taking the cup of steaming coffee offered to him. He took a long swallow, "She doesn't want me to touch her. Says she can't feel it when I do. An' all I wanna do is hold her." He swallowed hard past the tight knot in his throat.

"She's bound to be in shock after what happened...speaking of.." he pulled a tablet onto his lap with another sigh, "Stark managed to recover the video. Do you want to see it?"

Bucky downed the rest of his cup in a single long swallow and nodded. "I have to, I think."

Together they sat pressed together, heads bent over the tablet as Steve brought up the video.

They watched as you called out to the AI, the pinch of confusion on your face as you tried again. There was no sound but they could see the moment your body tensed as you yanked out your phone.

Bucky knew that was the moment you texted him the single word: _help_.

Men in black rushed through the halls, all armed with guns and though he knew you weren't shot he felt panic rise up in his chest and seize his heart.

There was a sort of static around your fingertips and Bucky felt his heart stutter awkwardly in his chest as your eyes turned completely white.

Water rushed down the hall at top speed, the first wave bowling over several of the attackers. They seemed to be shouting and confused, firing off shots as they fell. Some hit the walls or the ceilings and others whizzed by you so closely that his stomach twisted. How close you had come.

The waves didn't stop, building themselves into a terrible crescendo that spiraled and swallowed up body after body, trapping them in several cyclones of water. 

Bucky couldn't look away as your head tipped back, bodies thrown into the floor and the walls, he watched some of their necks snap against the hard surfaces. Others fell face down and unconscious only to drown in the water.

Your palms slammed into the floor and your hair whipped around your face as you pulled the floor up, the earth following your hands. 

Large chunks of sharp rock rocketed outward, knocking over the remaining men like dominoes. When it was over there was a flash of light before your body crumpled uselessly, limply to the ground.

The camera cut out after that, the screen going dark.

Bucky felt his stomach clench for you. He was so so so proud of you, he had told you that---but to see if for his own just how strong you had been was something else entirely.

His hands trembled as he wiped his sweaty palms down his legs. 

"She's never killed anyone before that, Stevie. I told her I was proud of her."

"We all are. The whole thing seems to have been a set up to get us out of the tower. We didn't recover anything useful from the base. My bet is they weren't counting on her being here."

"Maybe they didn't even know about her. Either way, they do now..." He swallowed roughly. Now he was certain he could never let you go. At least never stop protecting you. There was no point to distance himself if the enemy already knew exactly what you were capable of. If you weren't completely tapped out after that, of course.

Steve put his arm across Bucky's shoulders, pulling him in for a hug. "She'll come around, Buck. She's in shock and scared and hurting but she cares about you."

Bucky nodded, swiping at the tears that were once more falling from his cheeks. He looked over his shoulder at your sleeping form and did his best to smile for Steve.

"I just want to hold her, be in there with her. I know what it's like to be that shutdown, that scared. Don't ask me to leave her side, Stevie. It ain't happening."

"Wouldn't dream of it, pal. We got you back, didn't we?"

"You mean you got me back."

"Exactly. And you'll get her back the same way. You just have to be patient, keep pushing." 

Bucky met his eyes, "You'll help me, won't ya Stevie?"

Steve gave him his best smile. "Have I ever backed down from a fight? Til the end of the line, Buck. You know that."

Bucky grabbed his shoulders and pulled him into a strong hug that Steve easily returned. The two of them sat there for a long moment, just hanging onto and holding each other before pulling back with understanding soft smiles.

Bucky looked once more back at your sleeping form, his head pressed against the cool glass window. He felt more resilient now than ever to help bring you back to him, no matter what it took or how long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short (I think? I'm on mobile) little feel good-ish chapter between our two favorite super soldiers. Kind of filler but I also think it's important too that Stevie is there for Buckaroo. I'm gonna go tape my heart up some more.


	19. Chapter 19

A few days had gone by with Bucky perched just outside your room. He left only when you were asleep to quickly shower here or there while Stevie watched over you. Steve had a cot brought down with blankets and pillows so he could be more comfortable.

The blonde super soldier even brought him books, coffee, and food regularly. Without Steve, Bucky probably would have starved and stunk up the whole hallway. 

Bucky was currently perched on that cot, having just devoured three burgers and a fry and was halfway through a strawberry milkshake.

Steve sat next to him and waited patiently for him to ve done eating before dropping a manila folder onto his lap.

"What's this?" 

"Just read it, Bucky."

When he was done he looked up at Steve, hope in his eyes. "You're sure? Stark too?"

Steve nodded. "Wouldn't be showing you if we weren't. You gonna show (Y/N)?" He asked softly.

"She still hasn't invited me in. I mean she hasn't asked me to go but...." He shrugged. "You think I should go in anyway?"

Steve offered him a soft smile. "I think you're never gonna get anywhere if you just keep sitting out here."

"I ever tell you thanks, punk? Couldn't do this without ya." Bucky murmured, clearing his throat.

Steve gave him a smile, "As if I would even let you try, jerk." He squeezed Bucky's shoulder affectionately.

He stayed talking to him for a while longer before slipping away to get some sleep himself. They had all been working diligently to find out just what the men wanted for the last few days. They all needed to catch up on sleep.

\-------

You awoke sometime in the night, feeling the odd sensation of eyes on you. Slowly your eyes found Bucky and you jolted. 

"Scared me," you sighed, turning on the dim light above your bed so you could see him better. "How'd you get on here?"

He raised an eyebrow at that. "I'm a highly trained ex-military, ex-assassin and trained spy, speak no less than 6 languages and you think a locked door is gonna keep me out? Not to mention the vibranium arm, sugar. It was never the door keeping me out."

You flushed at that ducking your head. Right. That was dumb. Of course he could've just broken the damn door down, given.enough time. 

"Oh. Right." You replied lamely. Bucky scooted his chair closer to the bed and dropped the manila envelope on your lap.

He was careful not to touch you, though his fingers ached to do so. 

"What's this, Bucky?"

He took a deep breath, "Baby, in this folder is who those men really were. A knock-off wannabe HYDRA faction from Italy. In that folder? All the people you saved."

You frowned, brows drawn together tightly. "I didn't save anyone, Buck."

"Yes, you did. Do you know what happens when we save kids or adults that were taken captive?"

You shook your head. No. 

Bucky ran a hand through his hair. "We move them to safe houses. Often they're mutants, or experiments like me or Stevie. Up until a few days ago Stark kept a sealed record on their whereabouts. That's what they were here for. Many of the people in that file were HYDRA experiments. Those sick fucks were gonna take 'em all, baby."

You sucked in a sharp breath, tears stinging at your eyes as you looked through the documents and pictures.

"Because of you over two dozen people get to be home with their families right now. They get the luxury of never knowing what woulda come for them. You saved their lives, baby."

"And how many did I take?"

Bucky shook his head. "Don't matter. It ain't a competition okay? It's never gonna be an even balance of the scales. It just ain't possible."

He curled his hands into fists to resist thumbing away your tears once more. "I'm still sorry for what you had to do but if anyone could understand that, sweetheart, I'm it. You weren't fully in control, just like I wasn't. And don't you dare tell me it ain't the same cos it is. But you saved these people, okay? I need you to understand that."

You nodded, your throat almost painfully tight as you took in the information. "I hear you. I still can't be totally okay with what I did...but I hear you." You wiped at the tears with the backs of your hands. 

"Please tell me this folder is all that's left."

Bucky smiled a little at that, "Course it is. We ain't amateurs, sweetheart."

Nodding you took another deep and steadying breath. "I've missed you." You admitted quietly, picking at the blanket on your lap.

Bucky's smile nearly split his face in two. "I missed you too." Gently he took the file from you and closed it.

"I promised I would destroy this right after I showed you..." he cleared his throat, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "Afterwards can...can I come back in? Just to sit with you, be near you."

You flushed once more but gave him a soft shrug. "Yeah...yeah, okay." You gave him a timid smile and watched as he blew you a kiss before zipping off to destroy the file.

When he came back he dragged the cot into the room beside your bed and settled down on it as you settled onto your bed, both facing each other. 

Bucky definitely felt hope swelling in his chest after he watched you drift off to sleep once more. It was comforting to be able to hear you breathe, see your face, and this definite forward progress was enough to keep him going.

He just hoped it wouldn't be too long before you were back in his arms, out of this hospital room. He'd ached with the absence of you even with you so close to him.

But now he was the closest he'd been allowed in several days and he could feel the tension slowly seeping out of his body. He was certain his back was knotted tightly from leaning against the wall for several days. This made it worth it.

Slowly he let himself drift off into the first restful sleep he'd had since the day of the mission.


	20. Chapter 20

Bucky refused to leave for your side for the next few days. He didn't try to touch you, though the urge to do so was overwhelming. He could feel his skin itching with the temptation but was afraid to push you too far.

Finally you were discharged and allowed to go back to your room. Bucky kept his gaze on the ground as you emerged from the bathroom in sweats and a t-shirt. You were beyond ready to leave the med bay.

He bit his lip, worrying it with his teeth. "Will you stay with me? Or can I stay with you?" He trembled lightly as he took a deep breath. "I don't wanna push you, doll. I just...I need to be close to you."

You gave him a soft smile. "I'll stay with you, Buck. Just...can we take it slow still? You've been so patient but I'm just...I'm not okay yet. I don't know if I'll ever be fully okay."

He nodded, "As long as you need. Ain't goin' anywhere, baby. You set the pace on this, okay? But I'm not going anywhere."

You felt your heart swell at that. It was a little awkward to walk back with Bucky and not be touching him. There was a weighted silence between the two of you. Once back in his room you asked if you could shower.

Without the stench of antiseptic you felt much more human than you had since the incident. 

The silence stretched on long after he'd made you both dinner and then settled onto the couch to mindlessly watch TV.

You weren't even sure if either of you were paying attention. You knew you weren't. Inside your chest your heart beat frantically against your ribs and your mouth ran dry.

After several attempts you finally managed to squeak, "Bucky?"

His eyes were on you immediately. "Yeah, doll?"

Wiping your sweaty palms on your sweats you fought back the wave of panic threatening to consume you.

"I wanna try something, but I'm afraid." You admitted.

"What is it, sweetheart? I'm right here." He promised.

Swallowing hard you turned to him slightly and held out your hand palm up. "I miss holding your hand," your voice trembled as tears pricked at your eyes. "I'm just scared I won't be able to feel it. But I wanna try."

Bucky looked just as nervous for a moment before reaching out delicately and slowly. His fingertips skimmed your open palm and up your fingers before he laced his own fingers with yours and gave a soft squeeze.

Heat raced up your hand in a burst that made you gasp. It was tingly and staticy for a moment and then all you could feel was his calloused hand, warm and still soft against your own.

Fat tears rolled down your cheeks as you heaved in a breath. Bucky's hand shook in yours. "Do you feel that, sweetheart?"

The words stuck in your throat for a moment. "Yeah, I feel it." You squeezed his hand tightly and he returned the gesture with a dazzling smile.

"Feels good just to touch you again. It's all I've thought about." 

Slowly he raised your hand toward his mouth and breathed against the back of it. "May I?"

You nodded once more and watched as his lips pressed a soft kiss to the back of your hand and one more to your knuckles. 

His shoulders slumped in relief and, hesitantly, you brought his hand to your mouth to press a kiss to the back of his hand and knuckles as well.

His eyelashes fluttered shut with a soft sigh. "Will you lay with me?" He asked shyly. "I just wanna fall asleep holding your hand tonight."

Your cheeks flared red. "You're so sweet. Thank you for being so patient with me. We can try. Just...promise you won't give up if I can't handle it all night?"

Bucky let out a soft laugh. "Darlin I told ya I ain't going anywhere. I would wait forever for you."

Slowly he tugged you up from the couch and lead you to his bedroom where the two of you snuggled under the soft covers face to face and still holding hands.

You felt like all you had done recently was sleep. But you knew your body still needed the rest. It was hard to close your eyes with Bucky's blazing blue eyes so close, the soft curve of his mouth and the angle of his jaw.

It settled you and also made you feel tightly wound. You wondered where else you would be able to feel his touch. Everywhere? You hoped so but weren't ready quite yet to find out.

Bucky seemed to notice you struggling to sleep so he made soft circles on the back of your hand with his thumb and began to speak softly.

He told you about his mother and sisters and protecting Stevie from every fight he got into, about dancing and joining the service and Wakanda. He kept going until your eyes fell shut and your breathing evened out.

Still he kept it up until his own jaw grew tired and his eyes heavy. His fingers were still laced with yours, holding it tenderly against the pillows.


	21. Chapter 21

Only a few hours later you woke, blinking quick and hard in an attempt to figure out what woke you. It didn't take too long.

Bucky's chest was against your back, his hand just underneath your breast, stroking against the skin with the pad of his thumb. It wasn't just the maddening drag of his thumb across your skin setting your nerves alight.

No, his hips were grinding slowly against your ass as his breath hit the back of your neck again and again, the cool burst of air when he breathed in and the hot when he exhaled was dizzying.

"Bucky," you whined, realizing your underwear were soaked and you could feel everything on a hyper sensitive level, nearly trembling with the need to be touched.

You tried again, more insistently, to wake him. "Bucky!"

Behind you he jolted awake, sleepily trying to determine what was wrong. When he realized your predicament he threw himself back, accidentally launching himself from the bed. 

He landed on the floor with a hard thud. Seconds later the lamp clicked on and he was on his feet. "Baby I'm so sorry. I swear, I didn't mean to."

Bucky's eyes were wild and panicked as he looked you over, assuring himself that you were okay.

You sat up to face him. "Bucky, hey, it's okay. I just..." Your cheeks flushed with arousal, heat and need coiling low in your belly.

When your eyes met Bucky's he gasped, realization dawning on him. His body tensed, cock twitching in his shorts. 

His eyes darkened and turned hungry. "I don't want to rush you, baby."

"Then take me slowly. Don't you wanna touch me?" You purred coyly. Now that you could feel him, had felt him against you, had been already so worked up you wanted him desperately.

The simplest touch had you practically keening. It had been too long, over a week without feeling him. The need for patience, for slowness, had been so prevalent that it was shocking to find yourself so needy for him. Not that you were complaining.

Bucky swallowed hard, nearly begging you. "So bad, baby. I want all of you, so fuckin bad."

A shiver danced up your spine, "Then take me. Please."

As soon as the words left your lips he was on you, hovering over your body as he claimed your lips in a soft and passionate kiss.

He cupped your jaw, angling your head to deepen the kiss. Gradually the kiss got more forceful, his teeth dragging over your lower lip to pull a moan from you.

You stripped each other quickly, desperate to get as close as possible. He kissed a line up your throat and back down, sucking softly on your shoulder and collarbone as he teased and pinched your aching nipples.

Slowly, deliberately, he settled between your thighs and ground his pelvis against yours. His hard cock slid over your clit, both of you gasping at the sensation.

Your fingers clutched at his biceps, eyes locked on his as he repeated the motion again and again. 

"Please," you whined, "now, baby. Wanna feel you." His head dropped to your shoulder as he moaned, shuddering at both the need in your voice and the pet-name. You hadn't called him anything other than Bucky in so long.

It pulled at the tender strings of his heart and tears prick at his eyes. Slowly he aligned himself, meeting your gaze with his own as he pushed into your wet pussy.

Even with as soaked as you were there was still a subtle sting as he entered. He was thick and long, stretching you deliciously. 

As he sank home you both took ragged breaths and shared several sweet kisses. 

And then he began to move, rocking into you again and again. Every thrust sent pleasure zinging through you, up your calves, through your belly to your nipples, straight to your throbbing clit.

It was intensely erotic, feeling every sensation ten fold as you held his gaze with your own.

Neither.of you seemed able to look away, consumed by the other's passion and pleasure.

"M'not gonna last long, sweetheart," Bucky apologized with a tremble against you. 

"Me either. Fuck, you feel so good. Making me feel so good. Wanna cum for you so bad."

His hips sped up, thrust harder as he moaned under your praise, your need.

"Just like that. Oh, fuck,.Bucky...." You gasped, your hips rolling desperately into his. "I'm cumming, baby." 

The coil in you snapped, your eyes rolling back as you clenched around him tightly, inner walls fluttering over and gripping at his cock.

You could feel it through your entire body, muscles twitching and arching and curling of their own volition. Your fingers gripped his hair and back as it seemed to drag on forever. 

Bucky whimpered your name as he watched you come undone, following you over the edge into bliss with a shout of your name. Even after his own orgasm finished he kept rocking into you to draw out your pleasure until you were twitching away from him with over-sensitive whines.

He rolled off your body, laying onto his side and dragging your back into his chest again. Both of you were shaking, struggling to catch your breath.

Your body was still twitching and spasming softly with the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

The soft kisses along the back of your neck made you shiver and twitch with delight.   
.  
You grabbed the hand over your belly and laced your fingers together. 

"That was perfect. You're perfect." You sighed. His blushing cheeks were so warm you could feel it against your shoulder.

"That's definitely you, doll." He smiled affectionately,.nipping your shoulder.

"Missed you so much.." He murmured, kissing behind your ear.

"I'm sorry, Bucky. I missed you, too."

He shushed you gently. "You got nothin' to apologise for, sugar. You hear me?"

You nodded, tilting your head to capture his lips in a soft kiss. Playfully he growled against your mouth.

"Careful, or you'll start round two."

"Maybe that's the idea, Sergeant."

He nipped at your throat, giving you a wicked grin that said there would probably also be a round three, or four.


	22. Chapter 22

Both you and Bucky had agreed that you should see a therapist, and he agreed to go with you. Almost like couples counseling. But really just tandem counseling for you both individually. You hoped it would help you work better together as a unit to stop pushing each other away. 

That quickly proved to be easier said than done, however. The first one you'd seen had tried to push a plethora of drugs upon you both immediately.

The second had ignored you both in favor of doodling on his notepad.

Third had suggested the most wild holistic practices, concentrating mostly on your sex life 

Now you were at the fourth in as many weeks, and you knew almost instantly she wouldn't be a good fit.

"Have you considered," she asked, pushing her glasses up her nose, "that perhaps you and Mr. Barnes simply aren't good together?" 

Your brows drew together sharply at that. "Excuse me?" Bucky clutched your hand a little tighter.

"Well, Mr. Barnes has a history of anger problems, anxiety, dissociation, violent outbursts..including the murder of many civilians."

Rage boiled your blood. "Sergeant. Not Mister. And that wasn't him. It was the soldier."

She didn't seem phased. "Certainly looks like the same man. And it appears his anger issues have rubbed off on you, as well."

You bit your tongue sharply as she continued. "Have you considered he isn't good for you?"

Bucky spoke rather than let you explode at her. "I have, actually. And it's why I didn't want to get close to her in the first place. I was wrong, though."

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure about that, Mr. Barnes?"

Your blood boiled with rage. "Sergeant. Sergeant Barnes. Let's go, Bucky. This bitch doesn't know anything. She can't help."

She shook her head. "I think you're making a mistake."

You pulled him up from the couch and dragged him toward the door. "And I think you're a miserable bitch with useless degrees. I feel sorry for your patients."

You slammed the door behind the two of you, pulling Bucky out of building and onto the street.

"I'm so sorry, Bucky." You shook your head. "I can't believe she would even suggest that you're some kind of..."

"Monster?" He shrugged. "Doll, I'm used to it. And it's not like I wasn't expecting it from at least one of them."

You gnawed on your lip, shaking your head vehemently. "It isn't true. You're so good for me. Good to me." You squeezed his hand tighter. He offered you a soft smile in return. 

"I'm not goin' anywhere. No matter what some bitch doctor thinks." He huffed out a laugh. "Though she might be right about me rubbing off on you."

You wrinkled your nose at that. "Is not."

"Doll, you've got resting murder face." He teased, making your cheeks burn bright pink.

"Fuck you, Sarge." You bit back without any venom. Bucky wrapped his arms around you with a crooked grin. "Anytime, any place sweetheart."

If possible your cheeks burned even brighter, hotter. "Maybe that can be our thing.." you snorted. "Sex therapy."

Bucky tipped his head back to laugh loudly. "Can't say I would be opposed."

"If you were I'd wonder if maybe you're getting it somewhere else." 

He growled at that, though you both knew you were joking. Finally you sighed, tipping your head back. "I'm not sure I wanna try another, Bucky. Not if they're all gonna ignore us, insinuate such terrible things about you or just..don't seem to care."

He held you a little tighter. "Whatever you wanna do, baby. I just want to be better for you. And for you to be okay."

For a moment you let that sink in. It was true that you still felt ashamed, guilty, had nightmares about what had happened. But the therapists thus far had aggravated you more than helped. You doubted being called a monster who was bad for you was doing anything to help Bucky.

It didn't matter if he'd accepted it, expected it, or even felt like he deserved it. The idea that he could believe it and change his mind about the two of you wasn't something you could handle. 

"I don't wanna do anything that means you getting hurt, or deciding you really don't want to or can't be with me."

Bucky gave you another gentle smile. "I promise, I'm really not goin' anywhere. Would it make you feel better if I went back and took care of her? Can't talk shit if she's dead."

A very undignified snort left you. "Don't be silly. They could easily trace it back to us. We'd have to hire someone."

Bucky beamed at you. "Normally I don't joke about murder. But I'm proud of you too." When you furrowed your brow in confusion he barked out another laugh.

"You'd make a decent assassin. Still need more training, though." 

"Pff, as if. Obviously I was born to be the other Fist of HYDRA."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still don't fully know what I'm doing with this. So this is what I have for you for the moment. There may only be a few chapters left. We shall see.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed to give this some kind of ending. This is short and I will add more if it comes to me. I find this ending.. Satisfactory I guess. I'm sorry I couldn't do better! Ugh. Hope you enjoy the sweet snippet anyway

Two years later-

You woke in the middle of the night to soft murmuring. With furrowed brows you slid out of bed and into a soft robe. Bucky wasn't in bed so you padded out into the living room.

He was perched on the couch, bare chested and wearing a pair of sweats. His bare feet were perched on the coffee table, the scowl you had affectionately called his "resting murder face" firmly in place. 

For a brief moment you worried that this would be another setback for you and Bucky. You and him had tried several therapists before giving up on it all together. In the end you had worked on your issues together.

Sure you had your fights--days where one or the other of you would shut down and close off or let silence reign your home in favor of not saying anything you might regret. It wasn't easy, by any means, to always be so open and honest with each other. But you made it work.

And then everything had changed the day you found out you were pregnant. Bucky had been more enthusiastic than you'd ever seen him, and also terrified. But that was normal for any new parent, and you would be lying if you said you hadn't been just as terrified.

Then your daughter had been born and everything just....fell into place. The two of you made excellent parents. You never had to ask or beg for help. More often you practically had to pry the sweet girl from Bucky. 

She had dark hair like her father, his eyes too. Not that you minded seeing the reflection of your two greatest loves in each other.

The scowl dropped from Bucky's face as he laughed. As you walked further out you saw your daughter perched on his lap, heard a giggle escape her.

Bucky heard your shuffling footsteps, turning that sweet smile onto you. "Didn't want to wake you." He patted the seat beside him and you joined him, curling up at his side. "What are you two doing?"

He looked sheepish for a moment, a blush dusting over his cheeks. Your daughter chose that moment to let her face drop into a very familiar scowl. Seeing his resting murder face on your little girl was too much. You tipped your head back to laugh loudly. "Bucky, you didn't!"

The two joined in your laughter, her little hands clapping as she did it again. "Well, we gotta teach her how to greet uncle Sam don't we?" The scowl deepened on her face, making tears spring to your eyes with the force of your laugh.

You gave Bucky a soft kiss, and one to the 7 month old on his lap. "Might as well teach her to do the murder strut, too, as soon as she can walk." 

She reached for you, so you plucked her off his lap and settled her onto yours. As you did she lay her head on your chest, winding your fingers into your hair and tugging softly.

As she lay with you she looked over to Bucky and cooed "dada." You gasped, lifting her off your chest quickly. "What did you say honey?" 

Bucky looked just as stunned as you did, breathless and wide eyed. Her eyebrows dropped back into the scowl again. "Dada." And then she was giggling, clapping and swept into Bucky's arms as he positively beamed.

You sighed softly, tucking your head onto his shoulder. "I know, kid. He's my favorite too."

The three of you were up the rest of the night, laughing and scowling at each other until the first rays of sun peeked in through the windows.


End file.
